


The Dragonborn Legacy: Part II

by StoriesFromTheWasteland



Series: The Dragonborn Legacy [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, Heavily inspired by Zaric Zhakaron's "What If Skyrim Was Good?" series, If you enjoy please leave a comment, There will be many changes to the canon from vanilla Skyrim, This book will cover the main questline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2020-10-29 07:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesFromTheWasteland/pseuds/StoriesFromTheWasteland
Summary: Harkon is dead, but Valkyrie and Serana's journey is only beginning. Summoned by the mysterious Greybeards, Valkyrie will discover the true nature of her destiny, and the power she truly wields. The only question is whether she will fulfill the destiny laid out for her, or will power, politics, and scheming prove to be her end?





	1. Prologue

_ **10th of Rain's Hand, 4E 188** _

Valkyrie fell to the ground, having been smacked rather viciously by her brother's wooden training sword. Bruises and scrapes covered the young Nord's body, and her breath was heavy and labored from the intense, grueling training her father and brother had been putting her through. For a moment, she simply decided to lay there, not get back up, that perhaps accepting defeat was the only way out. That was, until Gronmir marched over to where she lay, grabbing the young girl's arm and jerking her to her feet.

"What are you doing?" The redheaded teenager demanded of his younger sister. "You don't give up just because you get knocked down a few times. You get back up and fight!"

"We've been doing this for hours," Valkyrie whined. "How am I supposed to learn anything when all you do is beat me up?"

"You're the one who wanted to learn how to fight," Gronmir said as he sheathed his weapon. "You think a bandit or a Forsworn will have any mercy on you?"

Valkyrie only groaned in response. It was true, she had wanted this more than anything she could think of. To be able to fight back against the Forsworn, the madmen in the hills, if nothing else so that she wouldn't meet the same end as her mother. But the young Nord could never have known what she was in for. That her brother would beat her senseless for most of the day while her father simply watched, all the while both of them would berate her for not defending herself adequately enough. It was enough to drive the girl mad, but against her own better judgement, she brandished her own wooden sword yet again, inviting Gronmir to come at her.

The boy smiled wickedly, all too eager to jump back into battle. He came at Valkyrie fast, swinging his weapon downward at her, the girl just barely managing to dodge his attack. Valkyrie attempted to retaliate with a few blows of her own, but every one was parried with seemingly masterful precision. Finally, Gronmir spun his blade, wringing his sister's weapon out of her hands. It dropped to the ground, but before Valkyrie could attempt to retrieve it, her brother went back on the attack. He swiped his weapon fast, each swing coming closer and closer to making contact with Valkyrie, but the young girl just barely managed to dodge every last blow.

Then, Gronmir reared his arm back, readying for a horizontal strike. Valkyrie ducked below her brother's blade, and followed through by rolling underneath the taller boy's legs, making a mad dash for her grounded weapon. At last she retrieved it, the odds now somewhat evened, and the two circled one another for a moment. Beads of sweat poured down Valkyrie's face as she anxiously awaited Gronmir's next move. The older boy wore a smirk, as if he knew his little sister wouldn't be able to keep up for much longer. Finally the boy rushed forward again, this time swinging wildly. Valkyrie managed to block a few of his blows with her own sword, but every blow knocked her just a bit more off balance.

Gronmir delivered one final attack with his sword, and Valkyrie just barely managed to deflect with her own weapon, but the force of her brother's attack knocked the young girl to the ground yet again. Her brother came down on her, attempting to deliver the final blow, but a stroke of luck happened upon Valkyrie. Gronmir suddenly tripped on something on the ground, losing his balance and falling to one knee. This gave Valkyrie just enough time to rise back to her feet and retaliate with an attack. The older boy attempted to evade, but Valkyrie's wooden sword tagged him right in the back of the knee.

In all her nine years of life, Valkyrie had never felt more proud of herself than that moment. She had finally done it. After countless losses against Gronmir, she had finally laid a blow on him. The young girl began to laugh madly, jumping up and down in sheer joy. She was a true warrior at last. Or rather, she was right until her brother caught her off guard by rushing into her. He successfully sent her to the ground once more, a moment later the end of his sword was inches from her face. Gronmir smirked.

"You're improving," he said, sheathing his weapon. "But one hit doesn't mean you've won the fight." He reached out his hand to help Valkyrie off the ground, which the girl gladly accepted. "I think that's enough for today," he added. "What do you think, father?"

They both turned their attention to Skjalund, sitting in the shade on the porch of their hut, a pipe in his mouth. "I suppose that will do," the old man said, rising from his chair. "You're doing well, Valkyrie. But you're too nervous." He walked over to meet the both of his children. "You have to let go of your fear and fight like a true Nord." He placed his hand on his daughter's head, ruffling her hair, much to the girl's annoyance.

"But I'm just a kid!" Valkyrie crossed her arms, jerking her head away from her father's reach.

"Doesn't matter," Skjalund said. "Like your brother told you, bandits or Forsworn won't exercise any restraint just because you're a child. They _will _kill you if they get the chance." Valkyrie only sighed, hanging her head as her father spoke. "Chin up, girl," he continued. "You did well today regardless, so I think I'll heat up the rest of that venison stew Einethatch made the other day."

This brought a smile to the young girl's face, the rigorous training her family had been putting her through working up an appetite. She could practically smell the meat and seasoning brewing in her family's fireplace. Just as the three were ready to rush inside and stuff themselves, a strange sound stopped them all in their tracks. No ordinary noise was it, this was something loud, monstrous even, that Valkyrie had never heard in her entire life. And it seemed to come directly from the sky.

"Papa?" She asked, rushing to her father's side as the man put a hand on her shoulder. "What was that?"

"I..." Skjalund struggled to answer her. "I don't know."

The sound made itself known again, this time seemingly much closer, and also clearer. There was no mistaking it, this was a roar. A thunderous roar of some horrible monster that made Valkyrie begin to quake with fear. She threw her arms around her father's waist, trembling, while Skjalund did his best to maintain his composure. "We should get inside," he said.

No sooner had the old man uttered these words did death itself come over the horizon. A massive beast that looked almost like a lizard, but scales black as the darkest night. Wings almost like a bird, but spanned even farther than the houses. The monster landed on top of Einethatch's mansion, letting out yet another unholy shriek. This time, Valkyrie's terror grew past what she had ever thought possible. The clear blue sky turned a violent orange in the span of a moment, and fire began to rain down from the sky. It was then she finally realized what this beast was, as Skjalund bellowed out...

_"DRAAAAAAGOOOOON!"_

He quickly pushed Valkyrie away, just barely allowing her to be missed by a bolt of fire that struck the ground. Skjalund turned to Gronmir. "Take her and get yourselves out of here! Run!"

"But what about you?" The boy demanded. His father replied simply by picking Valkyrie up, much to the girl's resistance, and placing her over Gronmir's shoulders.

"Don't argue!" The old man yelled. "Just run!"

Reluctantly, Gronmir did as his father commanded. With Valkyrie straddled over his shoulder like a sack, the boy bolted from the carnage as fast as his legs would carry him. The last thing Valkyrie saw before her senses went numb was the dragon landing in front of her father. Skjalund raised his blade at the monster, prepared to fight back, but was engulfed in a wall of fire from the dragon's maw before he could throw a single strike. Valkyrie screamed. And she kept doing so for a length of time even she didn't register.

Nothing made sense. The young girl's senses had left her, her mind unable to comprehend what her eyes were seeing. Eventually, her mind began to calm. When her senses returned, she was still slapped over Gronmir's shoulder, the boy running at full speed some way from the village. "Gron," Valkyrie said, the quiver in her own voice surprising her. "We can't leave him."

"There isn't anything left to go back for, Valkyrie," Gronmir said sternly. "You saw what happened. We have to keep going."

The young girl was having none of it, as she began to squirm, causing her brother's grip to tighten. At last, she began to wriggle free from Gronmir's grasp, only to fall face first onto the ground below him. Before Valkyrie could even attempt to get to her feet, to go back to the village and retrieve her father, or what was left of him, she was stopped in her tracks by Gronmir's hand grasping the neck of her shirt.

"What in Oblivion are you doing?!" The boy snapped at his sister. "We have to get out of here!" Valkyrie offered no response to him, only still trying to get away and run back to the village, her only thought of her father. At last, Gronmir spun her around, both hands on his sister's shoulders, and knelled down to her height. For a moment, there was silence between them, the only sounds to be heard were that of fire and death off in the distance. "Listen," Gronmir said. "There was nothing we could have done, okay?" Valkyrie didn't want to look directly in her brother's eyes, but he kept speaking. "Right now, the only thing we can do is get help." He pointed off a ways, to the river that flowed just beside the road they had taken. "We're going to follow the river and go to Markarth, alright?"

Valkyrie nodded, but should have known her brother's plans were in vain. The roar of the monstrous dragon sounded out yet again, now closer to them than it was to the village of Karthwasten. Both siblings took off running down the road, but their legs simply couldn't carry them fast enough. Within moments, the dragon was above them, having flown from the ruins of the village in a matter of moments. The great beast landed directly in front of the two, its weight shaking the ground so violently that both siblings lost their balance, falling to the ground. The dragon snarled at them, inching its maw closer, as though toying with them, attempting to bring out as much fear as it could.

It worked. Valkyrie was paralyzed, unable to move, unable to comprehend anything except the death that was staring her in the face. Gronmir, on the other hand, returned to his feet a moment later. He drew his only weapon, a rusty axe given to him by his father, and raised it at the dragon. "Valkyrie," he said, not taking his eyes off the beast. "Run!" These were the last words he ever spoke. Before the boy even got a chance to charge at the monster, its maw opened, and its jaw closed on Gronmir's body with a hideous _crunch. _The dragon toyed with his corpse for a moment, swinging it around in his mouth before letting go, sending what was left of Gronmir flying into the river bed. Then the dragon turned its attention to Valkyrie.

The girl was numb. Nothing mattered except that this horrible monster was going to kill her. She didn't want to die, dear Gods, she didn't want to die. The dragon moved its face closer, a gust of hot air from its nostrils blowing back Valkyrie's hair. It was then that a horrible, otherworldy voice came from the beast.

_ **"Zu'u Alduin. Zok sahrot do naan ko Lein."** _

The monster's jaw unhinged like a snake, and within moments, Valkyrie was devoured.

* * *

_ **3rd of Last Seed, 4E 200** _

Valkyrie shot up, suddenly awake, breathing heavily, sweat pouring down her forehead. She was exactly where she had been hours before, lying next to a fire, camped out near the village of Ivarstead. Serana, who had neglected to go to sleep, sat on a nearby log, and upon her lover's waking up, turned to face her. "You alright?" The vampire asked. "You were mumbling in your sleep. More so than usual."

The Nord's heavy breathing had finally calmed down a bit, and she allowed herself to lay back down onto her bedroll, staring in silence at the night sky for a moment. "I..." she stammered. "I had a nightmare, I think." Serana left her seat next to the fire, and promptly walked over to sit beside Valkyrie on the ground. There was a lengthy silence that followed, Valkyrie shifting her gaze back and forth between the sky, the fire, and Serana, her lover. A former vampire hunter in love with one of the very creatures she vowed to destroy, an irony that cost her no small number of allies and friends. But Valkyrie didn't care. In the months she had known Serana, the vampire had been there for her in ways no one else had ever dared. Neither of them were going anywhere any time soon.

"Do you..." Serana spoke after a while, resting a hand on Valkyrie's shoulder as she sat up. "Want to talk about it? What was it about?"

"You know, it's the damnedest thing," Valkyrie said, not looking forward. "I can't even remember." There was a beat, mostly caused by the Nord almost hearing the sound of the vampire's brow furrowing, as she knew Valkyrie wasn't telling the truth. The Nord sighed, leaning forward, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Val," Serana said softly, rubbing her hand across Valkyrie's back. "You know you can talk to me about anything. No matter what it is."

"I know," Valkyrie sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be dishonest with you, I just... just..."

"Take your time," the vampire tried to reassure her.

"The nerves are getting to me again, I guess."

"The Greybeards?" Serana asked.

"Not just them," Valkyrie explained. "Gunmar said they were masters of the Voice. The same power Durnehviir used to help us beat Harkon. These old men apparently have the power of _dragons."_

"So," the vampire said. "You think your supposed _destiny _everyone keeps telling you about involves dragons?"

"Maybe," the Nord shrugged. "In my dream, I was a little girl again. Back home with my father and brother in Karthwasten." Serana nodded, prompting her to continue. "They were training me how to fight, and everything seemed to be going well, but..." Valkyrie stopped short, struggling with the realities of what she had dreamt. "Then the village was attacked, my family was slaughtered. Not by vampires this time, but a dragon."

"Like Durnehviir?" Serana asked.

"No," Valkyrie shook her head. "This one looked nothing like Durnehviir. It had black scales, and this one also spoke but... its Voice." The Nord shuddered. "It was horrible. It was like talking to Hermaeus Mora again, but worse somehow." At last, she turned to face Serana. "I'm so confused," she continued. "I don't know what any of this means."

"Well," Serana said, moving a bit closer to the Nord. "Normally I'd tell you it's just a dream, not to worry about it too much. But..." She paused. "I don't know. If you used the Voice, something mortals can't normally do, and now you're being summoned by the only other mortals who can, there has to be something bigger going on."

Valkyrie sighed, followed by a short laugh. "We're just not cut out for a normal life, are we?"

"That ship sailed when I was offered to a Daedric Prince," The vampire smirked. "Besides, normal is overrated."

"Isn't that the truth?"

"Are you going to try and go back to sleep?" Serana asked.

"No, I doubt I'll be able to," Valkyrie said, slowly getting up from her bedroll. The Nord groaned, stretching out her limbs as she attempted to shake off the last of her sleepiness. "Besides," she added. "The sun will be coming up soon, and it's only a few hours' ride to Ivarstead." She turned back to Serana, now also on her feet. "We should hit the road."

The vampire nodded in response, and with a flick of her wrist, the campfire promptly went out. Valkyrie took the time to tend to her new horse, a young mare with a coat whiter than any snow the Nord had seen. She woke the creature up with a gentle pat on the neck, and the horse was on its feet in moments. "Hey girl," Valkyrie said softly, reaching into her pouch for an apple, one the horse happily devoured in an instant, bringing a smile to the Nord's face. She continued to pat the noble beast's neck for a time, making sure it was fully awake before attempting to saddle up. From behind, Valkyrie heard Serana chuckle.

"I've never seen you get so attached to a horse," the vampire said, already mounted on her own horse.

"What can I say?" Valkyrie shrugged. "I like this one." She put her foot into the stirrup, mounting her horse with ease as the creature let out a neigh. "Ready to ride, girl?" The Nord said, gently stroking the top of the horse's head.

"Have you-" Serana stopped short, letting out a discomforted groan. Valkyrie understood, this could only mean that the sun was almost on the horizon, and that it was time for them to go. "Have you decided what to name it?"

"Hmm..." Valkyrie pondered out loud. "Well, I've never seen a coat like this on a horse. It's unique, needs a unique name to go with it." She paused for a moment. "I think I'll go with..." She smiled, looking down at her horse, then back to Serana, the vampire eagerly awaiting her answer.

"Ivory."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Been a while hasn't it, my friends? I apologize for the lengthy delay in getting this prologue up but in between the end of Part I and now, I moved roughly 800 miles away from home, got a new job, and am currently living with my best friend. I thought I was an adult before, but now life is starting to kick my ass lol. In all seriousness though, I've just been taking time to settle in and get myself situated before plunging back into the world of fanfic.
> 
> I also have something of a slight announcement to make. So in addition to writing, recently I've also taken up the pursuit of one of my life's other great passions: Music. I'm doing vocals for a metal band based out of Warwick, Rhode Island called "Outlander." (Yes, it is indeed an Elder Scrolls reference hahaha). If you enjoy metal music and screaming and all that jazz, maybe consider doing us a favor and checking out our stuff? We currently have a few songs released on our YouTube channel, and hopefully will be out playing shows in the next few months (provided we can find a bassist who doesn't flake on us after a few practices). Just go on YouTube, type in "Outlander RI" and you'll find us, as well as links to all our social media. You aren't obligated to do so at all, but I would very much appreciate it.
> 
> Until next time, my friends...


	2. Seven Thousand Steps

The village of Ivarstead was strangely lively and bustling, both in comparison to the other small villages Valkyrie and Serana had seen in their travels, and for a settlement built some ways off from what looked to be an ancient Nordic burial cairn. As the two rode into town atop their horses, past scattered acres of farmland, busy townsfolk paying them no mind, Valkyrie's eyes found themselves darting off in the distance. At the edge of the small town, a bridge built over the river, and beyond it a path that lead to the base of the Throat Of The World, up into the mountains. Valkyrie's nerves fluttered, as they did nearly every time the young woman tried to grasp the possibility of why exactly the events of her life had unfolded in such a manner.

"Hey," Serana's voice ripped Valkyrie out of her own inner monologue. "No time for nerves now. _Destiny _awaits."

Valkyrie nodded. "You're right," she relented. "Guess I can't stall any longer. Let's find somewhere to hitch up."

"You sure?" The vampire questioned. "It looks like a long hike to the top of the mountain."

"Mountain air isn't good for the horses," Valkyrie said, which prompted a chuckle from Serana. "Or," she added nervously. "So I've been told."

"You've warmed up to that thing much faster than you did to me," Serana said with a smirk. "I'm almost a little jealous."

"Jealous?" The Nord asked flatly.

"Almost," the vampire replied. "But you're right, we should leave the horses behind." She motioned to the bridge, where two men, a Nord and a Bosmer, stood at the edge chatting away. "Let's go ask these two if they know somewhere."

Valkyrie simply nodded. As the women rode closer to the men, she began to pick up on their conversation, suddenly more interested when she discovered the subject at hand. _On your way up the seven thousand steps again, Klimmek? _the Bosmer asked with a cheerful glint in his voice. _Not today, _the Nord responded with a sigh. _I'm just not ready to make the climb to High Hrothgar. The path isn't safe. _So this man was heading up the path into the mountains as well, or at least was supposed to. Valkyrie and Serana exchanged looks upon hearing this information, the men paying them no mind as they rode closer.

_Aren't the Greybeards expecting some supplies? _The Wood Elf questioned yet again, intriguing Valkyrie with each new sentence. Not only was this man following the path, but was apparently delivering supplies straight to the Greybeards. _Honestly, I'm not certain, _the Nord replied. _I've never been let into the monastery. _At last, it seemed Serana at least had grown tired of hearing the two talk and interjected herself into the conversation. "Gentlemen!" she said firmly. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but did I hear right? You were planning on making the trip up the mountain?"

"I was," the Nord named Klimmek said with a shrug. "Sadly, my legs simply aren't what they used to be."

"Sorry to hear that," Valkyrie finally spoke. "What exactly do you deliver to the Greybeards?"

"Mostly just food supplies. Dried fish, salted meats, things that stay fresh for a long time," the man said. "The monks tend not to get out much, if you catch my meaning."

"And in return?" the vampire asked.

"Well," the man paused. "It's kind of an understanding between us. It wouldn't feel right to charge them for some preserved food."

"I understand," Valkyrie nodded, before motioning to Serana. "We're actually making the pilgrimage for the first time."

"No kidding," the Elf finally said something. "I've never gone myself, but the stories people tell after they come back,"

"What can you tell us?" Serana asked. "About High Hrothgar, or the Greybeards?"

"I've been to the monastery many times," Klimmek said. "But I've never laid eyes on the Greybeards. Not that I'd want to. Being masters of the Voice, they could kill you with a single word." Both Valkyrie and Serana's eyes grew wide at the man's words. "Not that they would," he carefully backtracked. "They seem peaceful enough. I wouldn't want to provoke them, though."

"I've always thought it was odd that there's always a thick layer of clouds covering the peak of the mountain above the monastery," Gwilin said, giving his chin a scratch. "Not sure what's up there, but I bet the Greybeards know."

"We'll be sure to ask them," Serana said half sarcastically. There was no need to let these men know that Valkyrie had been summoned specifically to speak with the monks, as there was no way of knowing peoples' reactions. "So," she said, turning back to Klimmek. "Since you've walked the path so many times, anything specific we should watch out for on the way up?"

"The occasional pack of wolves," Klimmek shrugged. "But that's about it. To be honest, I'm dreading the climb. My legs are going to hate me for it."

"If you're making a delivery, we could do it," Valkyrie piped up. "Since we're headed up that way anyhow."

"If you could show us somewhere to stow or horses in the meantime," Serana added. "Mountain air isn't good for them, or so I've been told."

"That would be kind of you," Klimmek said. "Are you sure?"

"I think we can handle a few wolves," Valkyrie said, shooting Serana a smirk.

* * *

Hours passed. Valkyrie's legs ached horribly from climbing the stone pathway up the mountain, much of which was decayed away by time and, as she and Serana went higher, covered in snow. The further they ascended, the heavier the snowfall that seemed to follow them, eventually blocking away the sun and severely limiting visibility. The Nord's mind raced as the snow continually crunched beneath her feet, still doing her best to come to terms with the strange turn her life had taken. As if slaying an ancient, incredibly powerful vampire with ambitions of godhood _after _said beast had blocked out the sun itself weren't enough, she was being summoned by a mysterious group of monks that lived in an ancient monastery, and apparently possessed the power of _dragons, _all because she supposedly possessed the same power?

The whole thing made Valkyrie's head spin, and caused her to drift into her own head, almost walking the path subconsciously, so consumed with her own inner thoughts that she almost didn't notice the gruff, inhuman snarling just above her. Almost...

Valkyrie looked up, the heavy snowfall making it nearly impossible to make anything out, but the Nord just managed to recognize the large, angry frame of a frost troll, staring both herself and Serana down from atop a ridge in the stone. She instinctively put a hand on the hilt of her blade, readying herself for possible battle. The troll jumped down from the ridge, landing with enough mass that it shook the ground, almost knocking Valkyrie off balance, but she managed to stay on her feet. The troll growled, baring its blackened, uneven teeth at the two of them, who stood their ground, waiting for the monster to make the first move.

"Easy, boy," Valkyrie heard Serana say next to her. "Just walk away."

The vampire's words were poorly chosen, as the troll let out a thunderous roar, before leaping through the air, its inhumanly strong legs propelling it towards the two women, only to be knocked out of the air by a thunderbolt from Serana. Valkyrie drew her blade, readying herself for the troll to get back to its feet, which it did only a moment later, seemingly only angered by the vampire's attack. The beast charged again, making a swing at Valkyrie's midsection. It was big, and it was strong, but the troll was slow as well, and the Nord easily dodged its strike. The troll swiped again, and again, each time missing before the Nord finally came back with a stab of her blade. The troll attempted to block the attack, only to end up with a sword impaling its arm.

The beast roared with pain, and Valkyrie yanked the blade out, now summoning a fire in her free hand. She threw a steady stream of flames in the troll's direction, forcing it to back away as it frantically tried to escape the blaze. It was unable, eventually being pinned up against the ridge line by Valkyrie, who suddenly stopped her assault to swing with her sword once more, this one grazing the back of the troll's leg as it tried to flee. Valkyrie reared her blade back, ready to finish the battle as quickly as it had began, when she took notice of the monster's body.

The great beast had curled itself up on the ground, making a noise that almost sounded like a whimper, and of a sudden Valkyrie lost her appetite for battle. She sheathed her blade, earning a confused look from Serana. "What are you doing?" The vampire asked, returning to the Nord's side. "You have him right there."

"I know, but..." Valkyrie sighed. "Look at him. He's so pitiful like this, I kind of feel bad."

"You feel bad?" Serana asked, audibly confused. "This thing just tried to kill us!"

"Yes, I was there for that," the Nord said. "But it's not like fighting vampires. Or bandits. Or even hunting for food. This thing doesn't know any better." She paused for a moment, before turning to face Serana. "Do you think you could heal it? You're better with Restoration magic than I am."

The vampire squinted her eyes at the Nord, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Please tell me you're joking." Valkyrie only shrugged in response. "You do realize as soon as he's back at full strength, he'll just come at us again, right?"

"You don't know that," Valkyrie shot back. "And even if he does, at least I can say I gave him a chance to walk away."

"Somehow I doubt a mindless beast is going to comprehend that, but..." Serana rolled her eyes, a golden aura enveloping her hands. "If you insist."

Only a moment later, the creature's wounds, from sword and fire alike, were healed, and the troll quickly stood up, seemingly confused. Much to their surprise, it did not attack like Serana had predicted. Instead, it continued to keep its distance, until Valkyrie reached out a hand to the top of the beast's head, gently stroking its fur. The troll seemed to enjoy this, its breathing growing heavier and more excited. Valkyrie only chuckled, "See? You're not so bad after all, are you?"

"Did you actually just make friends with a troll?" Serana asked in disbelief.

"I guess I did," Valkyrie said, moving her hand to scratch underneath the troll's chin. "Look at him, he's like a giant puppy. I wonder if I can get him to roll over."

The vampire sighed, laying a hand on the Nord's shoulder. "I think that can wait until _after _we find the Greybeards, love. Don't you?"

"That's fair," Valkyrie relented. "Go on boy," she commanded to the troll. "Get out of here." Strangely enough, the troll complied, turning on its heel and climbing back up the ridge from where it initially attacked. Once it was gone and out of sight, Valkyrie turned to Serana. "Well, that happened."

"Why did you bother having me heal that thing?" The vampire asked, crossing her arms.

"It was just a beast, Serana," Valkyrie shrugged. "It was just following its instinct. To be fair, we were kind of trespassing on his territory to begin with."

"I guess, but that doesn't change the fact it tried to kill us both."

"And we promptly taught him not to do that," the Nord said proudly. "And you saw what happened after. He learned his lesson and left us alone."

"Feeling empathetic, are we?" Serana asked.

Valkyrie took a deep breath. "While we've been on the road, I've been thinking," she explained. "When I was with the Dawnguard, all I did was fight. I craved battle, I wanted to kill every last vampire I could get my hands on. And that led me into situations that might have been resolved peacefully, but instead led to bloodshed. I thought that was just my nature, being a Nord, but..." she sighed. "I was just angry. And now that Harkon's dead... that anger just isn't there anymore." She drew her blade once more, much of its surface brown and black with the coagulated blood of her enemies. "I know I'm going to have to fight again. And often," she shook her head and sheathed the weapon once more. "But if bloodshed and violence can be avoided, I'd rather go peacefully."

* * *

The snow had continued to fall with ever increasing weight, to the point that even Valkyrie's Nordic blood couldn't stop her from feeling the ache in her bones as the freezing air and relentless wind continued to batter her senses. Even Serana, to whom the most inhospitable cold was like nothing, found herself shivering slightly the further they went on. After walking, climbing, and hiking since the sun had risen, Valkyrie was absolutely exhausted, yet saw no end in sight, particularly now that the daylight was fading. Between the looming darkness and the unrelenting blizzard, the Nord could barely see where she was going, relying solely on her instincts not to accidentally walk off the edge of a cliff, or slip and break her neck on a patch of ice.

At last, Valkyrie finally relented to the screaming urges in her mind, and summoned a fire in her palms. She had no idea how much longer the path to the monastery wound on, but found herself thinking that running out of magicka was preferable to freezing to death. As the flames flickered in her hands, the welcome sensation of their heat on what little of Valkyrie's skin was exposed, the two continued to march on through the elements. And suddenly, the snowstorm seemed to simply disappear. No wind, no snow falling from the sky. The Nord was baffled, but was less so when she spied in the distance a temple, and what looked to be a very old one at that. There was no mistaking High Hrothgar.

"So," Serana said, wiping the snow off her clothes. "Seems the unending blizzard wasn't natural after all."

"What do you mean?" Valkyrie asked, her eyes still on the building.

"I mean I think it was put there magically," the vampire explained. "Maybe to ward off anyone with ill intent, or as a test for people making the pilgrimage."

"But the Greybeards are Nords, aren't they?" Valkyrie questioned, slowly stepping forward towards the temple. "And old ones. Why would they be using magic?"

"You're a Nord and you use magic," Serana quipped back. "Maybe you should just ask them."

They walked on towards the temple, its presence ever more imposing the closer they came, in Valkyrie's mind at least. Inside were a group of old men who could apparently kill a person merely by speaking. There were a set of stone stairs at the base of the monastery, leading up to what the Nord assumed was the main entrance, unassuming as it was, with an offering chest about halfway up, presumably where Klimmek would deliver supplies to the Greybeards. Just before the pair of them started up the steps, Valkyrie took notice of a great stone tablet, propped up next to the walls of the temple, strange symbols carved into its surface.

At least, Serana seemed to only comprehend them as foreign markings in an unknown tongue. "I wonder what this says," the vampire wondered out loud.

"What do you mean?" Valkyrie asked genuinely. "It seems pretty straightforward to me." She held up the light of her palm's fire to the stone, oblivious to the bewildered looks the vampire was giving her. The Nord began to read aloud, the markings on the tablet enthralling her in a way she couldn't quite understand. _"Before the birth of Men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus. Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Need, for the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land." _She turned to look back at Serana, who was bearing an expression Valkyrie had never seen before, what looked like a mix of concern, confusion, and disbelief.

"Keep going," was all the vampire said.

Valkyrie nodded. _"Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus, and the Dragons presided over the crawling masses. Men were weak then, and had no Voice," _she continued, growing ever more invested in the words in the stone. _"But the fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times. Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices. But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts."_

"Sounds like it's referencing the Dragon War," Serana noted. "Interesting."

"The what?" Valkyrie asked, not taking her eyes off the stone. "Raised by Orcs, remember? I'm not really versed in ancient Nordic lore."

"I'll give you a history lesson later, just keep reading."

The Nord sighed, but complied. _"Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man. Together they taught Men to use the Voice. Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue. Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the World, proving to all that their Voice too was strong, though their sacrifices were many fold." _She stopped suddenly, a shiver running down her spine at the mention of this _Alduin. _Serana noticed, her expression immediately softening as she moved a bit closer to Valkyrie.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"That name," Valkyrie said softly. "Alduin. I feel like I've heard it before, but... I'm not sure."

"You did just have a dream about being devoured by a dragon," Serana reminded her. "Maybe they're connected?"

"I don't know. I hope not," the Nord breathed in deeply. "There's more here," she said, trying to remove her focus from the feeling of dread that permeated through her senses. _"With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer, founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice. Whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World." _Valkyrie and Serana exchanged looks, neither woman truly knowing what to make of the tale. _"The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humbled," _she continued. _"Jurgen Windcaller began his Seven Year Meditation to understand how strong Voices could fail." _She stopped once more. "Wait, who's Jurgen Windcaller? I feel like whoever wrote this skipped over a few things."

"Sounds like questions for the Greybeards, love," Serana said. "Anything more?"

"Yeah, here," Valkyrie said back. _"Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned. The seventeen disputants could not shout Him down. Jurgen the Calm built his home on the Throat Of The World." _She scoffed. "There they are again, missing things! I want to know what happened in between!" She turned to Serana, who calmly placed a hand on top of Valkyrie's head, only to forcefully turn her gaze back to the tablet.

"Focus please, Val," the vampire said.

The Nord rolled her eyes, but read on. _"For all years silent, the Greybeards spoke one name. Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar. They blessed him and named him Dovahkiin." _Valkyrie's eyes widened, she backed away slightly from the tablet. "Alright, _that _definitely stands out."

"Who's Tiber Septim?" Serana asked.

"You're the historian here," Valkyrie questioned the vampire. "Oh, right. Locked away for a thousand years."

"And I'm so lucky to have you to fill in the blanks," Serana said sarcastically. "But yeah, who was he?"

"Tiber Septim founded the Septim Empire," the Nord explained. "The current Empire based out of Cyrodiil, in case there was any confusion." The vampire only chuckled. "But he was a pretty important person. And the fact that the Greybeards of old summoned him, and now the new ones are summoning me, well..." she took a deep breath. "Kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and hide."

"Can't say I blame you," Serana shook her head. "But it's a little too late to turn back now, isn't it?"

"I don't know," Valkyrie said in a half joking manner. "I don't see anyone with an Elder Scroll about to extinguish the sun, so..."

The vampire responded with a playful punch to the arm. "Was that the last of it?"

"No," the Nord said, turning back to the stone. "There's one more stanza here. _The Voice is worship. Follow the Inner Path. Speak only in True Need." _She stopped. "I don't get it."

"Neither do I," the vampire crossed her arms. "It's all very vague and wordy. Then again a lot of old texts usually are. Hopefully the Greybeards will be able to tell us more. But first," she turned to face Valkyrie, her expression suddenly gravely serious. "I have something I need to ask you."

Valkyrie leaned back slightly, nervous about what exactly was on Serana's mind. "And that is?"

"How is it that you can read these glyphs?" The vampire demanded, pointing at the stone tablet.

"I..." the Nord stumbled on her words. "I don't know."

"These markings aren't in any language I've ever seen or even heard of," Serana continued. "But you can read them as if you've been studying them for years."

"Indeed she can."

Both women were startled by a new voice, quickly turning around to see an old man standing at the base of the steps leading to the monastery. He was clad in lengthy grey robes, with a hood at the top that obscured nearly all of his face, save for, much to no one's surprise, a grey beard poking out. There was a short silence before the old man spoke again. "I apologize for frightening you," he said gently, bowing his head slightly. "But I must ask, why have you come all this way?"

Valkyrie and Serana exchanged glances, the vampire motioning for the Nord to step forward, which she finally relented. "I'm answering your summons," Valkyrie said. "I guess."

"Ah," the man said, a smile forming underneath his hood. "I suspected it was you we summoned when I saw you reading the etchings. Not many in this age are capable of such a feat."

"What language are these glyphs, anyway?" Valkyrie asked.

"All will be revealed in due time. But first, introductions," the old man bowed again, much more graciously than the first time, to which Valkyrie and Serana reciprocated. "I am master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards."

"Valkyrie," the young Nord said. "It's a privilege to meet you."

"And Serana," the vampire spoke up. "Equally privileged."

It was then that Angeir tensed up slightly. "Ah," he said. "Forgive my rudeness, but we did not expect our summoned to have... company."

"Is that going to be a problem?" Valkyrie asked, as politely as she could manage.

"Erm... well..." the old man scrambled. "By tradition, only the Greybeards and those they summon are allowed inside the temple. We do not typically allow..." he paused. "Outsiders inside."

"I see," the Nord said, looking at Serana. "I understand your traditions, but..." she stopped putting an arm around Serana's shoulder. "She's more than just company. This one and I have been through a lot together. Where I go, she goes. And vice versa." Arngeir shifted his gaze to the vampire, who simply shrugged. "So this isn't something I ask lightly, but... could you make an exception? Just this once?"

The old man sighed, seeming to give up strangely without much of a fight. "Very well," he sighed. "She may come inside. But I must consult with the other Greybeards about how long she will be allowed to stay."

"That's fair," Serana said, cutting off Valkyrie before the Nord could argue any further. "Thank you for this. I promise to treat your home with the respect it deserves while I'm here."

"I would hope so," Arngeir said, before turning back to his summoned. "Now then... Valkyrie," he turned away from them, beginning an ascent up the steps. "If you'll follow me. We have much to discuss."


	3. The Way Of The Voice, Pt. I

The inside of High Hrothgar was every bit as dark and foreboding as Valkyrie had imagined, the only sources of light coming from lit braziers adorning the walls. As she and Serana followed Arngeir through the main entrance, down a narrow hallway that led into a large open room, she spied three more men, each dressed in the same attire as the old man, on opposite ends of the room in meditative positions. The other Greybeards, Valkyrie assumed, unable to be sure of what she was feeling. Nerves, almost definitely, but she had been experiencing that since she was summoned by these men. But she would have to figure out her own dispositions later, as Arngeir led her to the rest of the Greybeards, while Serana stayed back at the hallway.

"Gentlemen," the old man spoke, and the others stood up immediately, giving he and Valkyrie their full attention. "Our summoned has arrived." The other men bowed graciously, and Valkyrie did the same, although she became a bit more apprehensive when the Greybeards moved to form a circle around her. Arngeir clearly sensed this. "Do not worry," he said in a calm, gentle voice. "No harm will come to you here."

"Right," Valkyrie said. "Sorry."

"Now then, before we begin," the old man continued. "There are some formalities that must be seen to." Valkyrie simply nodded. "Tell us, how did you discover you were able to use the Voice?"

The Nord fell silent, looking back at Serana, who only shrugged. Were these old men really going to believe that she had learned this ancient power from a dragon? A beast of legend long since extinct? Then again, the fact that she was even here was a testament to just how strange her life had become. "Alright," she said, taking a deep breath. "This is going to sound crazy, but... some time ago, myself and Serana ventured into Oblivion." She motioned back to the vampire, who responded with a sarcastic wave of her hand. "We met a _dragon. _An actual, living, breathing dragon who was trapped there by a curse." The Greybeards nodded, as though they heard stories like this all the time, and Valkyrie continued. "We even managed to defeat him in combat. He rewarded us by saying that if I ever needed help, all I had to do was call his name from Tamriel."

"And so you did," Arngeir said. "I assume, at least."

"Yes," Valkyrie confirmed. "Fast forward some time, and we were both about to die at the hands of a powerful vampire who had blocked out the sun." She couldn't see the men's eyes from underneath their hoods, but could tell their were shocked by her story. "Yes, that was us," the younger Nord said, unable to stop herself from chuckling. "It was a last ditch effort, I didn't even expect anything to happen but... I yelled his name with everything I had, and there he was. Roasted the vampire alive and saved our necks. He explained a bit about what the Voice was, and how he was surprised I was able to use it, but was forced back to Oblivion before I could really learn anything."

"That..." the Greybeard seemed to struggle with his words. "That is quite a story."

"I understand if you don't believe me," Valkyrie said. "But that's what happened. Swear on my father's grave."

"I did not say we didn't believe you," Arngeir replied. "Just that it was an incredible tale." The younger Nord simply shrugged. "We shall see if you truly possess the gift. Tell your friend she may come. It won't hurt for her to learn some of our teachings as well."

Valkyrie didn't even have to say anything, as Serana gladly rushed to her side the moment the Greybeard had given his blessing. "Thank you again," the vampire said graciously, before turning to Valkyrie. "I feel like I'm more excited to be here than you are. Reminds me of being at the College." The Nord simply smirked and shook her head, as Arngeir simply stood patiently waiting for them to finish.

"Now then," the old man said. "Let us see how quickly you can learn." He inhaled deeply, before letting out a whisper.

_ **"Fus..."** _

Arngeir's voice, much like the dragon's, or even Hermaeus Mora's, seemed to resonate within her. At her feet, the stone floor of the monastery began to crack, and into itself carved runes, much in the same style as the tablet outside. The language was unknown, yet Valkyrie found herself able to understand not only the word transcribed in front of her, but its meaning. "Fus..." she repeated. "Force..." her breathing began to grow heavier, unsure of what was happening, and she turned to Serana. "Are you seeing this?"

The vampire only bore the look of confusion. "I don't see anything."

"She is not trained in the Voice, young Valkyrie," Arngeir explained. "But you... you learn a new Word like a master."

"I'm so confused," Valkyrie said. "What just happened?"

The Greybeards all responded by leaving the circle, and proceeded to line themselves up in front of the Nord. "Let us taste of your Voice," Angeir said. "And all will be revealed."

"Are you sure?" she questioned. "I don't want to hurt you."

"We can withstand, I assure you," the old man said, with what was almost a smirk. "Now!"

Valkyrie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as it seemed she had no other choice. She thought back to Castle Volkihar, how it took everything she had left to gather the strength to summon Durnehviir. She felt a rumble within her, a power waiting to be set free, and finally did as the Greybeard commanded, and unleashed her Voice.

_ **"FUS!"** _

A wall of pure force erupted from Valkyrie's throat, strong enough to knock each one of the Greybeards off their feet. The powerful, raging feeling she had experienced a moment ago was now replaced by worry. "I'm so sorry," she said, reaching out a hand to help any of the men up who would take it. "Are you alright?"

Arngeir accepted Valkyrie's hand, but said nothing for several moments. All Valkyrie knew was that he was breathing rather heavily, as though her were in shock, finally the old man spoke. "It is you," he removed his hood at last, revealing his old, grizzled face, as did the rest of the Greybeards. "It is truly you." Before Valkyrie could even ask any questions, all four men dropped to one knee, bowing their heads to her. Arngeir spoke again, only single word that sent a shiver down the Nord's spine.

"Dragonborn..."

* * *

Some time later, both Valkyrie and Serana had been led further into the temple sanctuary, now sitting a large stone table that, if Valkyrie didn't know better, would think was used for guests or meetings. But she knew the Greybeards didn't accept visitors. Well, at least not usually, herself and her vampire being likely the first exceptions in decades. Arngeir stepped into the room, in his hands a small tray with some old mugs and a teapot. He took a seat opposite Valkyrie and Serana, pouring their drinks in silence.

"Well," Arngeir said as he handed the women their mugs. "Any questions you have, now is the time to ask them."

"Where do I even start?" Valkyrie said with a sigh, taking a sip of the old man's tea. "So... Dragonborn. I feel like I've heard the term before but I can't quite remember."

"In its most basic terms," the old man explained. "It means that you have the body and mind of a mortal, but the Gods have gifted you with the blood and soul..." he paused. "Of a dragon."

One question was answered, but countless more were raised as a result. "No," Valkyrie shook her head. "You have to be mistaken."

"Not at all," Arngeir continued calmly. "The runes outside that you were able to read so effortlessly? They are written in _Dovahzul, _in the language of dragons." Valkyrie had no rebuttal, and the old man continued. "And let us not forget how naturally you learned the Voice?"

"That reminds me," she finally said something. "What does the Voice have to do with dragons? I tried to ask the one I summoned, but he ran out of time."

"Hmm..." the old man stroked his beard for a moment, before taking a sip of his own tea. "There is no short answer to this question, so I would suggest you get comfortable." Valkyrie and Serana each nodded, in unison reaching for a swig of their own tea, bidding Arngeir to explain. "The Voice, or as dragons would say, the Thu'um, is tied to their very being. When one uses the Voice, they are projecting their own vital essence into a Thu'um, or rather, a Shout."

"So," Valkyrie said. "It's a form of magic?"

"Yes," Arngeir hesitated. "And no. The Thu'um is far beyond simply throwing fire at your enemies, or healing your wounds. Unchecked, it has the power to destroy worlds. And to dragons, this power came as naturally as breathing."

"Then how did they keep themselves from destroying everything?" The Nord asked. "Last I checked, the world was still here."

"I said _unchecked, _the Thu'um had such power," the old man said. "But dragons, or _dovah, _as is their word for themselves, had complete mastery over their powers. As I said, using the Thu'um was their inborn nature. It was more that mortals couldn't handle the weight of such power."

"I'm guessing that learning to use the Thu'um isn't easy." Valkyrie commented. "At least not for most people."

"Indeed not," Arngeir chuckled. "Look at the Greybeards. We've spent most of our lives in this monastery, studying the Way of the Voice. And yet, what you've learned in the span of a few hours took even the most gifted of us years to accomplish."

"But why me?" She asked, ever more confused. "I don't understand why I was chosen when there are far more capable people out there."

"We are here to guide you in the pursuit of that knowledge," the old man reassured her. "Just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the dragon blood that have come before you."

"So I'm not the only one..."

"You are not the first, no," Arngeir said. "There have been many of the dragon blood since Kyne first bestowed the gift onto mortals. But you are the only one that has been revealed to us thus far. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age, that is not for us to know."

Valkyrie was silent for a moment, attempting to take these new revelations in. She had been gifted with an ancient power normally only achieved by creatures of myth and legend, a power that had been granted to her by the _Gods. _"I'm sorry," she said. "I need a minute to process all of this."

"Of course," Arngeir said. "We have all the time in the world."

"So," Serana spoke up after her long silence. "I heard you mention Kyne, not Kynareth. I'm going to assume you follow the Old Nordic pantheon?"

"We do," the old man nodded. "The Way of the Voice is deeply rooted in ancient Nordic lore and history. Whatever the Greybeards believed before making our home here is irrelevant." He then turned back to Valkyrie. "Are you alright? I understand this can be quite a lot to take in."

"I don't know," the Nord said quietly. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but it's late and we're exhausted from the climb."

"Say no more," Arngeir said, standing up from his chair. "We shall resume in the morning. Allow me to show you to your quarters."

* * *

_ **4th of Last Seed, 4E 200** _

The cold morning air nipped at Valkyrie's face. Having spent the majority of her night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep due to the lingering anxiety of Arngeir's revelations about her true nature, she was still every bit as exhausted as when she and Serana had arrived at High Hrothgar. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she still questioned whether the Greybeards could be wrong about her, how she somehow shared this great power with names only spoken in legends like Tiber Septim. But she was here, and the Nord was determined to at least see this through to the end, regardless of what may have laid ahead for her.

She and Serana had followed Arngeir out the back way of the monastery, leading to what looked to have once been a courtyard, albeit chipped away by time and decay. As the old monk led them, the three made their way to the edge of a cliff, looking off in the distance. The sun had not quite yet risen over the horizon, the sky still a breathtaking mix of orange and violet hues, just barely lighting over the landscape below. Valkyrie swore she could see nearly the entire province from this height. "Wow," was all she managed to say. "This is quite a view."

"Indeed," Arngeir said. "The Greybeards come here to meditate, so naturally I thought this would be a wise place to begin our lessons."

Valkyrie nodded, exchanging a look with Serana as the both of them lowered down to their knees. In truth, Valkyrie had never done any sort of meditation in the past, too focused on fighting and achieving vengeance. But High Hrothgar strangely instilled in her a sense of peacefulness, and more or less was able to clear her mind, as the Nord closed her eyes, focusing only on the old man's words, Serana doing the same.

"Let us begin," Arngeir spoke calmly. "In the beginning, when the Gods sought to create life, and our world with it, their first creations were the dragons, or the Dovah. Majestic and deadly in equal measure, these creatures heralded Mundus for time immeasurable, until the birth of men." He paused, clearing his throat. "As you read on the runes, the dragons ruled over mortalkind, but did not do so directly. In the days of old, the dragons hand selected exceptionally powerful mortals to rule the land in their name. Those chosen were known as the Dragon Cult."

"Does this have anything to do with the Dragon War?" Valkyrie asked, her eyes still closed.

"Yes," the old man said. "Much of the culture of the ancient Nords had deep reverence for animals, even more so for dragons, but the Cult took it further. They worshipped the dragons as being avatars of the Gods. And looking through the perspective of the ancients, it was hard not to see why. These were eternal beings, gifted with the power to destroy simply by speaking."

"Eternal?" Valkyrie finally opened her eyes, and turned back to Arngeir. "But dragons have been extinct for centuries. If they were immortal, where are they?"

"You must understand," The monk explained. "Dragons were entirely different from mortal men. Their nature, their worldview, everything. Death to them did not mean the same thing it does to us. It is true, their physical bodies could be slain, but they did not die. Instead, they simply slumbered, until life was breathed into them once again by the Gods."

"So dragons could rise from the dead?" Serana spoke now. "What made them stop coming back?"

"Unfortunately, that knowledge has been lost to us," the old man sighed. "After the Dragon War, when men prevailed against their former masters, they began hunting dragons for sport. All the secrets, knowledge, and lore of the Dragon Cult have fallen to the forgetfulness of time. All we know is that there was only one way to truly kill a dragon."

"And what was that?" Valkyrie asked.

"By the hand of another dragon," Arngeir said gravely. "If and when a dragon slayed another of its kind, it would then devour the fallen's very soul. All its knowledge and experience would cease to exist."

"That..." the younger Nord paused, unsure of what to think. "That sounds horrible."

"I can only imagine..."

"But wait," she continued. "Is the _devouring their soul _part something you have to do yourself? Or does it just happen? Because we defeated a dragon, and nothing like that happened."

"Sadly, I do not have an answer," Angeir shook his head. "No record exists of any previous Dragonborn devouring a dragon's soul. But then again, dragons were not nearly as common a sight in the days of Tiber Septim than they were in ancient times. Just as well, you mentioned the dragon from Oblivion was trapped there by a curse, powerful magic. Perhaps this is why nothing happened."

"Maybe," Valkyrie said. "I'm sorry I keep interrupting, please continue."

"Not a problem," he laughed softed. "It is only natural that you have questions. Now where was I?" He paused. "Ah, yes. When man had prevailed over its former captors, it was then that the ancient Nords began to realize their true potential. They roamed Tamriel, fighting and conquering with the power of the Voice. The most powerful of these warriors were known as Tongues, and it is said that their Voices were so powerful, they could not even speak normally without fear of causing devastation."

"Is that why the others don't talk?" Serana asked.

"Indeed," Arngeir nodded. "Their Voices are too strong for anyone not trained in the Way to withstand. Even a whisper could kill you."

"This power does sound incredible," the vampire said. "So why is it that no one uses it today?"

"Because the Thu'um was not meant for mortals," The old man answered rather sternly. "The Tongues grew arrogant after overthrowing their dragon masters, you see. They believed that with the Voice, they were destined to be the new rulers of the land, when Kyne had only gifted them this power out of pity. It was not meant to be used to fight, or conquer." He sighed. "And so the Gods sought to punish the Tongues with great failure and defeat. It was then that Jurgen Windcaller the Calm, the founder of the Greybeards, made his home here and surmised that the Voice should only be used in worship of the Gods."

"So then, what about Tiber Septim?" Valkyrie asked. "He was Dragonborn, and he used the Voice to conquer the entire continent."

"The Dragonborn, or _Dovahkiin _in the dragon language, is the exception the rules," Arngeir said. "You have received the power to Shout directly from Kyne Herself. If we are to accept one gift, being the Voice, how can we deny another?"

"But why?" Valkyrie only grew more confused. "Why me?"

"It is said that Dragonborn are sent into the world in times of great need," the old man explained. "What this need may be, I cannot say. But the Gods do not make mistakes. You are the one they have chosen, and so you will realize your destiny in due time."

"So everyone keeps telling me," she sighed. "I just wish I knew what it was already."

"Well, until that time," Arngeir rested a hand on the Nord's shoulder. "The Greybeards will teach you all we can about the Voice, and hopefully guide you down the path of wisdom."

* * *

_ **15th of Evening Star, 4E 200** _

Several months were spent at High Hrothgar, Valkyrie studying diligently under the tutelage of the Greybeards. For every question that was answered about her being this Dragonborn or about the Voice, several others were raised that Arngeir and his fellow monks had no answers to. The only thing she noticed that had actually changed was her physique, thanks mostly to the strict diet that the Greybeards adhered to, which she had no choice to adopt herself. While Valkyrie had never thought of herself as very fit, Serana had made it a priority to praise her lover's newfound physical prowess with great enthusiasm, albeit when the monks were out of sight.

The unusally sunny landscape of High Hrothgar's courtyard, the sun's light reflecting off the snow, was a strangely fitting background as Valkyrie brushed away at Ivory's coat, having decided to bring the horses to the monastery after it became clear they would be at High Hrothgar for some time.

"Quite a magnificent beast," came Arngeir's voice from behind. Valkyrie had not heard him approach, but had become used to the old man appearing out of nowhere.

"Yes she is," Valkyrie said. "I know my training is still pretty far from complete, but I'd like to take her out riding soon. Keeping her cooped up here has to be getting old."

"You know you are not a prisoner here," the old monk said, grabbing his own brush and assisting her with the other side of the horse. "You and Serana are free to come and go as you please."

"I know" Valkyrie replied, giving a pat to Ivory's neck. "But leaving now, while I still have so much to learn, seems irresponsible." She suddenly laughed. "Speaking of Serana, I don't think she's going to be joining us today. She's..." She paused. "Tired."

Arngeir sighed. "I am not stupid, you know." Valkyrie suddenly blushed, turning away from the old man's gaze. "What the both of you get up to is your own business. But please," his voice suddenly lowered. "I would ask that you try and be a little quieter."

"I understand," Valkyrie said nervously. "I'm sorry."

"No matter," the old man sighed. "Perhaps to change the subject, we might resume your teaching?"

"Works for me," the young Nord said, taking a step away from her horse. "What's the history lesson about today?"

Arngeir simply chuckled, a gesture that made Valkyrie slightly anxious. "No history lesson today" he said as he led her to the center of the courtyard. "Today we are going to sharpen and tone your Voice."

"Oh," Valkyrie said quietly. She had not expected this, much of the last several months having been spent studying the history of the Voice, the ancient Nords, and the philosophy behind the monks' Way of the Voice. As interesting as Arngeir's lectures could be, they had a tendency to drag on and become boring after a bit. This was something new and exciting.

As they reached the center courtyard, another of the Greybeards was waiting, Valkyrie recognized him as Einarth, one of the silent ones. Or at least, she thought that was who it was. Between the robes and the beards poking out from their hoods, it was often difficult to tell the other monks apart, as Arngeir was the only one who spoke.

Einarth bowed graciously as Valkyrie approached, a gesture she returned. "Now then," Arngeir said, standing off to the side as his fellow monk and the young woman stood face to face. "When you first arrived here, we taught you what is known as a Word of Power."

"Fus," Valkyrie remembered. "Force, right?"

"Correct," Arngeir and Einarth both nodded. "But what we did not tell you is that this Word, in conjunction with others, will make the Shout more powerful."

"Others, huh?" The young Nord pondered. "How many Words are there exactly?"

"Countless," the old man said. "Having said that, each individual Shout has three words. Think about when you summoned the dragon from Oblivion." Valkyrie nodded. "A dragon's name is made up of three Words of Power. If you are ready, master Einarth will teach you the second Word of what is known to us as _Unrelenting Force,"_

Valkyrie turned to Einarth, the monk removed his hood and looked her dead in the eyes. If she hadn't been aware of the pacifist nature of the Greybeards, it would have scared her senseless. At last, Einarth Spoke in a whisper, much in the same way Arngeir had when she had first arrived at the monastery.

_ **"Ro..."** _

Valkyrie heard the old man's Voice within herself, the Word of Power appearing, shimmering in the air between them. "Ro," Valkyrie repeated. "Balance?"

Einarth smiled, bowing his head and backing away. It was Angeir who spoke next, seemingly in disbelief. "I know I've seen it already, but..." He exhaled deeply. "To see the abilities of a Dragonborn for myself, how naturally and effortlessly you learn..."

"I honestly don't know how I do it," Valkyrie said. "It just happens. Why is it so difficult for most people to learn the Voice?"

"Hmm," the old man put a hand to his chin. "How best to explain this..." He shared a glance with Einarth, before continuing. "There is a reason dragons could use the voice so naturally. It is not enough for mortal men to learn the Words. They must also understand the meaning."

"The meaning?" Valkyrie questioned. "But something like balance seems pretty straightforward."

"Oh no," Arngeir shook his head. "What we perceive as balance means nothing. In order to use the Word in a Shout, one must understand the Word as a dragon might. This is why it takes years, sometimes decades for a mortal to learn even the simplest Shout."

"And here I am learning Shouts without effort," the young woman said. "It almost doesn't seem fair."

"Such a restriction is for the best," Arngeir replied. "As I once taught you, mortal men grew drunk with power when they wielded the Voice."

"True," Valkyrie said, before a mischevious smile grew on her face. "I guess the only thing now is to test out this new Shout."

"Indeed," Arngeir said, taking a stand beside Einarth. "Let us taste of your Voice once more, Dragonborn."

"Are you sure?" The younger Nord asked. "I know you were fine last time, but the Shout will be even stronger now."

"And as I said before, we can withstand," the monk assured her. "Now!"

_ **"FUS RO!"** _

The wall of force blasted through Valkyrie's vocal chords, its power magnified by the second Word of Power, and its might blew both Greybeards back, sending them skidding on their feet. No words needed to be spoken, as Valkyrie looked on at the old men, feeling nigh unstoppable, if only not for a slight burning in her throat.

Despite her uneasiness about possessing the power of the Thu'um, Valkyrie's imagination began to soar. She could only imagine the possibilities of what she would be capable of once she herself had mastered the Voice, unable to picture any enemy that could defeat her.

It was a feeling that both exhilarated her, and frightened her beyond belief.


	4. The Way Of The Voice, Pt. II

_ **9th of Rain's Hand, 4E 201** _

Valkyrie let out a yawn, dragging her feet rather sluggishly after rising out of bed of her own accord for once. After spending so many months at High Hrothgar, the cold stone of the temple's floor beneath her bare feet didn't even register in her mind. She had no idea what time it was, or why Arngeir had allowed her to sleep rather that waking her for her lessons as the old man usually did. What was even more strange was that, upon her waking, Serana was nowhere to be seen, when the vampire usually snuggled up to her in bed as tightly as possible, only leaving when the both of them had no other choice.

As Valkyrie came to think of it, slowly traipsing down the dimly lit hallway from where her quarters were, the entire monastery seemed rather quiet. Quieter than usual, at least, as besides herself, Serana, and Arngeir, the other three inhabitants never spoke. It was almost suspiciously calm. It had been a full ten minutes since getting out of bed, and none of the Greybeards were positioned in the hallway, meditating at the windows, or outside Shouting at the sky. It was only when Valkyrie made it to the central chamber of the temple that she began to grow suspicious.

Coming from somewhere in the monastery, there was a distinct smell of baked goods. This was an oddity, as the Greybeards' diet was as strict as their philosophy, and the old men normally only ate minimal helpings of dried and preserved meats. It had been months since she had even _thought _about sweets, let alone seen one. Her curiosity growing, Valkyrie attempted to follow the smell, until finally she stumbled into the meeting hall, where Arngeir had served herself and Serana tea their first night at High Hrothgar.

Gathered around the great stone table were all four of the Greybeards, with Serana standing front and center, a devilish smirk on her face. Still only half awake, Valkyrie simply stared at them all for a moment, before she finally spoke up. "What's going on?"

The vampire responded by simply moving to the side, revealing a large cake on the table. Her mischevious smile turned into a wide, joyous grin. "Surprise!" She said, rushing forward to embrace the Nord, who was still clearly confused.

"Wait, what?" Valkyrie said, still gladly accepting Serana into her arms. "What is this?"

"Don't tell me you didn't remember your own naming day," Serana said, resting her arms on Valkyrie's shoulders.

"I... um..." The Nord didn't know what to say. She couldn't remember exactly when she had told Serana her day of birth, though she suspected it was when they had snuck into Castle Volkihar in search of Valerica. An entire year ago, such a small detail said in passing, yet the vampire had remembered, even when Valkyrie herself hadn't. She was touched. "Truth be told," she said. "I haven't really been keeping track of time up here."

"Fair enough," the vampire remarked. "But just because you didn't remember doesn't mean we can't have a proper celebration."

Valkyrie laughed. "You seem much more into this than I am."

"Listen love," Serana's voice was much lower now, slightly more serious as she moved her face closer. "You know my past, what kind of life I lead before I met you. Occasions like this didn't come around very often, if ever." She moved a hand to Valkyrie's face. "And now one has, and I'm all the more glad I get to share it with you."

It was all Valkyrie could do to keep a tear from escaping her eye. Instead, she opted to rush forward into a kiss, one that Serana was only too happy to give back. "I love you," the Nord said as they broke apart.

"I love you too," Serana cooed as they both turned back to the Greybeards, now hand in hand.

"Honestly," Valkyrie spoke to Arngeir. "I'm more surprised all of you agreed to this."

The old man rubbed the back of his neck, looking to his fellow monks. Einarth shook his head, whether in disapproval or gentle understanding was unknown. Borri simply wore a smirk, and old Wulfgar stood in the corner of the room, expressionless as he leaned against the wall. "Well," Arngeir said finally. "It is true that the Greybeards do not normally observe such... _festivities." _He let out a short chuckle. "But Serana can be quite persuasive when she wants."

"I have no doubt," Valkyrie shot a glance at Serana, mostly playful but with a twinge of suspicion. The vampire only grinned mercilessly back.

"But her argument for the celebration was sound," the old man continued. "Your mastery of the Thu'um has all but surpassed our decades of training in a fraction of the time. In addition, you've been a diligent student in learning the history and philosophy behind the Way of the Voice." He smiled. "I suppose you've earned a day off."

"Thank you..." Valkyrie bowed her head, before adding, "...Master."

"No need," Arngeir bowed back. "I understand the desire to celebrate and enjoy yourself. The Greybeards were young once as well, you know. As hard as that may be to believe."

"I don't want to think about what you got up to at my age," Valkyrie joked as she stepped towards the cake. Serana, with a snap of her fingers, produced twenty two minuscule fires, hovering just so slightly above. With everyone in the room eager with anticipation, she finally inhaled, then blew out, extinguishing the magic candles while Serana and the Greybeards applauded.

"So," the vampire threw her arms around Valkyrie's neck. "What did you wish for?"

The Nord only chuckled. "To be honest," she said, beaming back at Serana. "I think I have everything I could possibly want."

Serana scoffed, playfully smacking Valkyrie's forehead. "Well, in that case," she backed away, crossing her arms in an exaggerated manner. "Maybe I should just take back the present I got you."

"Wait, you got me a present?" Valkyrie asked, dumbfounded. "How? Neither of us have left the temple since we got here?"

"I have my ways," the vampire winked. "Long story short, I got a message to Klimmek in Ivarstead. Gave him some coin and had him go shopping for us in Riften. That's where the cake came from, and also..." Her hand moved into the magic pouch at her hip. After a moment of struggling, Serana revealed no less than five cases of wine, plopped carelessly on the stone table.

"That," Valkyrie's eyebrows shot upward. "Is a lot of wine."

"It is," Serana grinned evilly. "But I'd say you've earned it." She took a single bottle out of one of the cases, and faced over her shoulder to Arngeir. "You too, old man. You could do with some loosening up."

Arngeir laughed, shaking his head. "I said earlier that the Greybeards were young once, no?" The vampire raised an eyebrow. "So trust me when I say, that master Wulfgar being anywhere near alcohol is a bad idea." Both Valkyrie and Serana burst into laughter, while old Wulfgar simply shot Arngeir a death glare. "Have your fun," the old monk said as the Greybeards made to leave the room. "But just remember your training resumes tomorrow."

As the old men left the two women alone, Valkyrie looked over the table, slightly intimidated by the amount of drink in front of her. "Serana, this seems like a lot for one day," she said.

"Of course it's not all for one day," the vampire put an arm around Valkyrie's waist. "I just decided to stock up. It's been ages since I've had a good drink, and this seemed like a decent reason to have one." She gave the Nord a peck on the cheek. "We're just celebrating. We're not going to get sloshed."

* * *

Valkyrie was completely sloshed. Drunkenly waltzing around the snow-covered courtyard of High Hrothgar while Serana looked on, nearly unable to breathe from laughing so hard. What had began as a few sips of wine turned into splitting an entire bottle. Which then became Valkyrie downing a whole bottle and a half on her own. And now she was outside, hours later, her bare feet numb from the cold of the snow, Shouting her Voice at the wind.

_**"YOL!" **_A wave of fire erupted from Valkyrie's throat, the heat doing little to warm her in the brief seconds of its existence, as it was soon extinguished by the mountain wind. "Fuck!" She yelled, kicking at the snow. "What good is that fuckin' Shout if it disappears so quick? I wish those bastards would just teach me the next Word already!"

"Probably because they don't want a drunkard wielding such power," Serana said playfully. "I think you've had enough to drink, love."

Valkyrie hobbled over to where the vampire stood, and gently poked a finger into her chest. "Fuck you," the Nord said after a bit of silence. "I'm the Gods damned _Dragonborn, _I'll tell you when I've had enough." Every other word was slurred, and to make her point, Valkyrie simply went to down the remainder of the bottle that was in her hand. She managed to get a few gulps of wine in before Serana snatched the bottle from her, sighing wistfully. Valkyrie opened her mouth, as though she were going to yell at Serana, but instead burst out laughing. "You're probably right," she said, unable to keep her balance, thus turning to leaning against the vampire to stay upright. "I know you're just lookin' out for me." The Nord's face fell into the crook of the vampire's neck. "I don't say this enough," Valkyrie began, her voice muffled by Serana's neck. "But I love you."

Serana chuckled. "So you're _that _kind of drunk, I see."

"It's not 'cause I'm drunk," Valkyrie whined. "I mean it. You're so kind, and beautiful," she wrapped her arms around the vampire's torso. "And smart. And amazing in the sack."

"I know you mean it, love," Serana said in the motherly tone she could manage. "Especially that last part."

"Hmm," the Nord groaned. "Maybe you just wanted me drunk so you could have your way with me again."

"Like I need to get you drunk for that," the vampire sighed playfully. "Besides, the last time we did that, your Voice shook the entire mountain. I can only imagine what the villagers in Ivarstead thought."

Before Valkyrie's alcohol-addled mind could muster another response, the Greybeards appeared, seemingly out of nowhere as they tended to do, perhaps to come outside and meditate. But with a raging drunk Dragonborn running amok, any possibility of peace and quiet was thoroughly crushed. "Ah, look who it is," she slurred, a drunken smile on her face. "The old bastards who are too good to have a drink with us."

When Arngeir offered no response, just shaking his head as a disappointed mentor would do, Valkyrie grabbed the bottle from Serana's hand and quickly rushed to where the monks were standing, in a fashion only the Dragonborn could.

_ **"WULD NAH!"** _

It was then that Valkyrie realized that perhaps she had indeed had too much to drink. The power of this Shout propelled her forward at blinding speed, but in her drunken state, she had significantly overshot her sprint, and ended up tackling poor Borri to the the ground. "Shit," she managed to groan as she rolled off the old man into the snow. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" It then hit her. "Oh right, you don't talk." She then looked back up to Arngeir, who proceeded to help Borri up. "Is he okay?"

"Master Borri will be fine, I believe," the lone vocal Greybeard said. "I'm more worried about_ you, _young Dragonborn."

At the old man's insinuation, any qualms Valkyrie may have had about her alcohol intake dissipated in an instant. "Pffttt," she scoffed at him, stumbling to her feet. "Come on, Arngeir," she said. "It's a celebration!" She raised the almost empty bottle in the air. "Twenty two years ago, my mother and father just couldn't keep it in their pants. And nine months later, I showed up. Just a simple miner's daughter destined to save the world from..." She went silent for some time, mouth still agape. _"Something."_

The Nord's drunken rambling was at last cut off by Serana once again grabbing the bottle from her hand. "You are _gone, _woman," she said, her previously amused demeanor now giving way to genuine concern. "I think you probably need to sleep this off."

"You know what else is gone?" Valkyrie snickered. She leaned downward, trying and failing miserably to be subtle as she picked a handful of snow from the ground. _"Your face!" _She yelled as she attempted to hit Serana with a snowball, one the vampire easily side stepped. Valkyrie's wrist was quickly seized in Serana's grasp, and the vampire began dragging her towards the temple.

"Come on, love," Serana said. "Bed time."

"But I don't wanna!" Valkyrie moaned, managing to wry herself free of the vampire's grip. "I'm having fun! Oh, speaking of which," she chuckled. "I think I know someone else who needs to have some fun..."

"What are you talking about?" Serana asked. "What are you doing?"

"Relax, Serana," Valkyrie slurred. "Just inviting an old friend of ours to join the party!"

The vampire's eyes suddenly went wide. "Don't you dare," she said quietly. "Val, that is a very bad idea!"

_ **"DUR NEH VIIR!"** _

The instant Valkyrie Shouted skyward, that familiar violet aura appeared behind her, nearly blinding both Serana and the Greybeards, who did their best to shield their eyes. When the light faded, in its place stood none other than Durnehviir, the dragon from Oblivion. The great beast bowed its head to Valkyrie, while the Nord attempted to do the same, only just barely keeping her balance. The Greybeards were in awe, as soon as the dragon appeared, every one of them dropped to their knees.

**"Drem Yol Lok, _greetings, Qahnaarin," _**Durnehviir's massive, booming voice sounded out. _**"Any new or interesting prey for me to slaughter?"**_

"Not today," Valkyrie said, shrugging. "I was just having a bit of fun and thought you could use a break from the Soul Cairn."

The dragon gave a laugh. _**"Well, I am appreciative regardless."**_

"Don't mention it," Valkyrie said in between a hiccup. "So, funny story. It turns out there _was _a reason I could use the Voice so easily..."

_ **"You don't say,"** _

"Yup. Dragonborn," the Nord exclaimed, posing dramatically in all her drunken glory.

Durnehviir let out a noise, one that could almost be taken as a gasp. _**"Dovahkiin?" **_He asked. _**"Truly?" **_Valkyrie nodded. _**"Interesting. I have only met one other like you, but... well, I would prefer not to speak of him."**_

"Preferring not to tell me things," Valkyrie scoffed. "Seems you have more in common with these old bastards than I thought."

The dragon then turned his attention to the Greybeards, still bowed in reverence. _**"Ah," **_Durnehviir said lowly. _**"I see you have brought me a few morsels. It has been ages since I tasted mortal flesh..."**_

_**"Hey!" **_Valkyrie managed to use the Thu'um to get the dragon's attention. "They are friends, not food!" She scolded him. "Behave yourself! I brought you into this world, and I can take you out!"

Durnehviir grumbled, hanging his head at Valkyrie's reprimand. _**"Krosis, my apologies," **_he said, clearly annoyed.

"Oh, I can't stay mad at you," Valkyrie started, but then paused suddenly, her eyes now struggling to stay open. "Well," she said. "I hate to cut our reunion short, but it seems I'm gonna pass out now." These were the Nord's last words before she collapsed to the ground. Serana rushed over, placing a finger on Valkyrie's neck just to make sure her lover hadn't drank herself to death.

"She's fine," the vampire announced to everyone around. "Just unconscious."

_**"What is wrong with Qahnaarin?" **_Durnehviir asked.

"She's just drunk," Serana sighed. "Very, very drunk."

The dragon just laughed. _**"Well, if her intoxication allowed me to be free of the Soul Cairn for a bit, I will take it." **_He then lifted his head skyward, inhaling deeply. _**"Now then," **_he said. _**"Since Qahnaarin slumbers away her drunkenness, I would prefer to use what little time I have on this plane to go and speak with an old friend..."**_

"Hold on, what?" The vampire questioned.

Durnehviir gave her no answer. Instead, the great beast simply flapped his wings, rising into the air and blowing snow in every direction in the process. Flying off into the sky, the dragon had left Serana with so many new questions. She turned to the Greybeards. "What did he mean by an old friend?" She asked. "He's been trapped in Oblivion for at least a thousand years."

"I haven't the slightest clue," Arngeir said.

There was something about the old man's response which made Serana suspicious that he wasn't being entirely honest with her, but the vampire decided not to push it at that moment. Instead, she simply picked Valkyrie's unconscious body off the ground and slung the Nord over her shoulder. "Come on, you," she said. "Let's get you some rest."

* * *

_ **12th of Last Seed, 4E 201** _

Valkyrie stood in the center of the courtyard, clad in the Armor of Auri-El, her weapons about her for a change. After nearly an entire year at High Hrothgar, it was at last time for the Greybeards to test her Thu'um in combat. The Nord's hand nervously hovered above the hilt of her blade, awaiting whatever challenge the old men may have thrown at her. All four Greybeards, as well as Serana stood some distance away in observance, all seeming equally ready for the Dragonborn's trial. "Are you ready?" Arngeir asked at last.

Valkyrie inhaled deeply, drawing her sword. "As I'll ever be."

"Very well then. Let us begin," the monk bowed, before exchanging a look with his fellows. Then, in perfect unison, the four of them Shouted...

_ **"FIIK LO SAH!"** _

At least a dozen specters were summoned, all surrounding Valkyrie. She only had a split second to react before every last one of them charged at her. Seeing no way through a solid wall of her attackers, she faced at the ground and Shouted, _**"FUS RO!" **_The force of her Voice propelled the Nord into the air, just barely grazing by the grasp of the phantoms, who all rushed through one another, intangible. As Valkyrie landed on her feet, one of the familiars came for her again, its body permeating with ice. The Dragonborn dodged a few of its strikes, and quickly put an end to the ghost with another Shout. _**"YOL TOOR!"**_

The familiar disintegrated at the fire that Valkyrie spat forward, and so she turned to the rest of them. Two were coming at her from the very front, and one from the side. She readied herself, blade in hand for her attackers, but another unseen specter landed in a hit from behind. Valkyrie fell to her stomach, and quickly changed plans. Unable to get away in time before the four ghosts reached her, she Shouted once more.

_ **"TIID!"** _

Everything slowed down to a snail's pace. Valkyrie was shocked, as she hadn't even been sure the Shout would work. But it did, and she went to work quickly, jumping to her feet, and slicing through every last familiar with the edge of her blade, all four of them dissipating in an instant. Time then began to renew its normal pace, and the remainder of the ghosts were now keeping their distance, wary of the Dragonborn. But Valkyrie wasn't about to let them keep away from her. She Shouted yet again, _**"WULD!" **_In almost an instant, the distance between herself and the phantoms was closed, and her blade met with the form of one, eliminating it from the field.

It was now that Valkyrie's throat was beginning to burn quite excruciatingly. The Voice was taking its toll on her, whether this was due to her inexperience, or simply her frail mortal body was unknown. But any more Shouting would have to wait a bit. She sheathed her blade, now favoring an attack of a magical nature, as her palms began to radiate with sun magic. There were about seven more familiars, and two of them rushed Valkyrie from either side. She quickly put an end to both with a blinding bolt of magic.

Finally, another came at her from the front, this one much quicker than the others. She tried to block the specter's blows but the damned apparition was just too fast for Valkyrie, and delivered a series of shots to her torso. The Dragonborn backed away, trying to give herself some distance. This was to no avail, as the familiar stayed on her, striking away at her midsection, each blow forcing her back further and knocking ever more breath out of her. Finally, the ghost had pushed Valkyrie away from the courtyard, all the way to the cliff's edge. Seeing no other options, rather than let the phantom push her off the edge and fall to her death, Valkyrie suddenly rushed forward.

The familiar went intangible just before she made contact with it, but it was just enough to give Valkyrie the space she needed. She drew her blade once more and imbued it with a layer of sun magic. When the ghost came to attack once more, its form met the end of her weapon and it vanished. There were only four more specters left, each of them lined up neatly in a line back in the center of the courtyard, almost too still. Valkyrie cautiously inched her way towards them, unwilling to bet that the four forms had suddenly decided to peaceably surrender.

She was proven right, as suddenly each of the ghosts began to drift closer to one another, their incorporeal forms melding and merging. When it finally finished, the new form that stared Valkyrie down was a touch more intimidating. It looked... bestial, but not in a way she had ever seen. The Nord nervously backed up, waiting for the now much larger and more menacing ghost to make the first move. As it turned out, she needn't have waited long. The familiar's entire frame began to brim with fire, and it charged for her, shaking the ground with each step. Valkyrie attempted to roll out of the terror's way, but it caught her in the midsection and sent her rolling.

The Nord got up quickly, but the phantom was on her again, swiping with its massive arms at her body, its sheer size making it a challenge to maneuver around. At last one of the strikes came just a bit slower than the others, and Valkyrie took advantage. She summoned a sizable chunk of her magicka, and blasted a ray of sun at the monster's form, knocking it onto its back. The Dragonborn thought she might be gaining the upper hand, but the ghost rose again far too quickly, the fire surrounding its form now burning brighter and hotter.

_Well shit, _she thought to herself, drawing her blade once more. _That didn't work. Let's see here..._

The familiar clasped both its hands together, bringing them down towards Valkyrie's frame, only for her to roll in between its legs and run her blade right into where its spinal column would be. The phantom roared with pain, but its pace was not slowed even slightly, as it quickly reared back, smacking into Valkyrie's body with a vicious back hand. The Dragonborn was sent off her feet, flying some distance away, but managed, even in her disoriented state, to land back on her feet. The phantom stepped closer to her, slower than before this time, and she finally relented. _This thing's on fire, _she thought, readying herself. _So ice would be the best form of attack. _She growled to herself. _Shame they only taught me the first Word for this one._

** _"FO!"_ **

Much like the fire of earlier, this time a blast of pure ice erupted from Valkyrie's mouth, stopping the ghost in its tracks. Her throat continued to burn, but it seemed that there was only one sure way to defeat this beast, and so she Shouted again. _**"FO!" **_This time the specter fell onto its back, barely moving, and the pain emitting from Valkyrie's throat nearly had her in tears. Yet her adversary still persisted, slowly attempting to rise from its back, only to fail miserably, waddling around in agony. Taking deep, heavy breaths, Valkyrie braced herself for the incoming pain, and Shouted for a final time.

_ **"FO!"** _

The ice from her mouth at last banished the familiar from existence, and the burning pain in Valkyrie's throat grew to sensations she hadn't known possible. She dropped to one knee, a hand clutching at her neck while she used her blade to keep her balance. It was agony, using the Voice so many times in quick succession. Valkyrie pondered briefly how exactly the Tongues of old were able to wield such power as they did, when after a few quick Shouts, she felt as though her throat were burning a hole right through her skin.

Suddenly, Valkyrie was surrounded by the Greybeards, as well as Serana, who knelt down beside her, clearly concerned. "Are you alright?" Asked the vampire.

The Dragonborn tried to speak, but only a raspy, hollow pant came out. The fear that swept through her mind at that moment was indescribable. Had she just lost her Voice simply by using it too much? Had the Greybeards been wrong about the Dragonborn being the exception to the Gods' rules, and now the Divines sought to punish her? It was seemingly absurd, but in the moment, Valkyrie's mind raced, until Arngeir finally spoke, resting down beside her.

"Ah yes," the old man said calmly. "This does sometimes happen. Come with me, Dragonborn," he rose to his feet. "I shall prepare you some tea. You will be fine in a few hours."

* * *

Thankfully, Arngeir had been right. A few mugs full of the old monk's special brew, along with a bit of time resting her Thu'um, and Valkyrie felt brand new, albeit her voice still a bit hoarse from all the Shouting. She, Serana, as well as all four of the Greybeards sat gathered around the table in the meeting hall in silence. The vampire hadn't stopped showering her with concern since she had collapsed in the courtyard, despite Valkyrie and Arngeir's reassurance that she was fine. At last, after what seemed like ages, the old man spoke.

"Well," he said. "Now that it's over, I must say," he raise a mug to Valkyrie. "Never in all my years have I seen such graceful mastery of the Voice."

Valkyrie laughed. "I don't know if being left unable to speak would be considered graceful."

"Ah, but that was only a fraction of what transpired in your trial, Dragonborn," the old man continued to shower her with praise. "The rest of it, your effortless demonstration of the Thu'um, it was a sight to behold."

"Thank you for the kind words, but..." the Dragonborn sighed. "I can't help thinking about how I ended up. I thought being Dragonborn meant I could use the Voice without the restrictions of others."

"You can," the monk explained. "But despite possessing the soul of a dragon, your body is mortal. Thus even the Dragonborn has their limits." He took a sip of his tea. "Make no mistake, however. Your body's tolerance of the Voice already far exceeds that of the Greybeards. And I can only guess it will grow with time and practice."

"But you won't be able to do limitlessly?" Serana pondered out loud, while Valkyrie only shrugged.

"That's probably for the best," the Nord said.

"Indeed," Arngeir concluded. "And now that your Voice has been tested, there is only one more trial for you to complete."

"Another trial?" Valkyrie asked. "What's this one for?"

"This one is more of a... _formality," _the monk said. "A quest that has been carried out by every Dragonborn, from Tiber Septim onward. We ask that you venture to the resting place of Jurgen Windcaller, and retrieve his horn. After which, your training will be complete, and we will be able to formally bestow upon you the title of _Ysmir."_

The last word caught Valkyrie's attention rather suddenly. She quickly put down her mug, eyes wide with apprehension. In her time at High Hrothgar, the Greybeards had taught her much of the ancient Nordic pantheon, enough to know that _Ysmir _was simply another name for Talos, the hero god of mankind, supposedly given to none other than Tiber Septim himself when he ascended to godhood upon his death. The insinuation made Valkyrie rather nervous for a multitude of reasons. "Why do you need to name me Ysmir?" She asked.

"It is tradition," Arngeir said. "Every Dragonborn emperor, from Tiber Septim, all the way down his bloodline to Uriel VII, were named Ysmir by the Greybeards." This did a bit to ease Valkyrie's nerves, but not nearly as much as she would have liked.

"Alright, but," the younger Nord continued. "I figured that tradition had died out. Considering there haven't been any Dragonborn for centuries. And since Talos worship is outlawed in the Empire."

"The Greybeards are independent from any nation or ruler," the old man said rather firmly. "Imperial laws have no bearing on our sacred traditions."

Valkyrie wasn't buying it. She slowly stood up from her chair, looking the monk dead in the eyes, and to his credit, he didn't flinch. "Arngeir," the Dragonborn asked calmly, but her tone suggesting she was mortally serious. "What aren't you telling me?"

The old man simply sighed. "Retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller," he said. "And all will be revealed to you."

_**"No!" **_She used the Voice, and at last Arngeir began to show signs of fear. All four Greybeards, as well as Serana stood up from their chairs, nervously waiting to see what Valkyrie was going to do. She immediately regretted herself, and took a deep breath. "Listen, Arngeir," she began again, her tone much softer this time. "I don't want to seem ungrateful for your training. I'm not." One of her hands balled into a fist. "But I am so sick of being jerked around by _everyone. _Insane priests, Daedric Princes, dragons, ancient Elves, and now you." She sat back down, trying to calm herself. "I don't want to hear that I have a destiny, I want to know what it is. So please, Arngeir," she looked at him yet again. "Tell me what you know."

The old man was silent for some time, eyes darting around the room as he exchanged looks with his fellow Greybeards, Serana, and Valkyrie several times over. At last, with seemingly no other recourse, the old man relented. "Very well," he said with a sigh. "Though I expect you will be disappointed."

"Surprise me," Valkyrie said.

"Saint Alessia, Reman Cyrodiil, Tiber Septim," Arngeir began. "Some of the greatest heroes of legend all possessed the dragon blood. The details cannot be known to me, as I was not blessed with the gift," he explained. "But simply by being Dragonborn, you are destined to be their equal."

Valkyrie was silent for several moments, looking only at Arngeir, until she finally stood up, shaking her head. "I don't know what I expected," she said with a sigh.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," the old monk replied.

"You honestly think _I'm _supposed to be some hero of song and legend?" the Dragonborn asked, disbelief overtaking her. "What in Oblivion makes you think I should even be spoken in the same breath as any of them?"

"I think a better question," Serana finally spoke after being silent for so long. The vampire faced Valkyrie directly, hands on her hips. "Is why are you so unable to believe it?"

"You're taking _their _side?" The Nord asked.

"I'm not taking anyone's side, love," Serana shot back at her. "I'm just asking you to take a deep breath and _think." _When given no response, the vampire only continued. "Look at you. You've been given this amazing gift, far beyond anything most mortals could ever hope to achieve. The only others in history who've had the gift were kings, emperors, legends, heroes." She stepped forward, resting a hand on Valkyrie's shoulder. "Do you think any of them became that way overnight?"

"They also had armies, followers," Valkyrie said, her gaze shifting to the floor. "People who practically _worshiped _them. Who am I compared to that?"

"I think," the vampire moved her hand, now caressing the Nord's cheek. "You need to stop thinking about how you see yourself, and start thinking about how _others _see you."

"What do you mean?" The Dragonborn asked.

"You're so humble," Serana chuckled. "You see yourself as just an ordinary person, despite being Dragonborn. It's a good trait to have, but..." she shook her head. "When I look at you, I see an unstoppable force of nature. Who else could face down my father so fearlessly?"

"I had you there to help me," Valkyrie said.

"And you always will," Serana smiled. "But that's besides the point. All the people Arngeir named, _none _of them thought at the beginning that their names would be the subject of ballads for centuries to come." She forced Valkyrie's face upward, so that the two could gaze into each other's eyes. "You're scared, nervous, and I get that. But you need to see this through."

The Nord sighed. "I don't know..."

"Please," the vampire said softly. "If nothing else, do it for me."

Valkyrie stared into her lover's gaze for some time, considering her words. Perhaps Serana was right, and she truly was destined to be a hero of song and legend like the Dragonborn of old? That the old monks weren't crazy for believing her to be their equal? She turned back to Arngeir finally. "So let's say I bring you the horn," she said to him. "The Greybeards name me _Ysmir. _What happens after that?"

"Well, your training will be complete," Arngeir said. "You will always have a place here at High Hrothgar, but from that point, it is up to you to decide where your path takes you."

She considered his words briefly, hoping with everything she had that once she completed this task, it would finally bring all this nonsense to an end. She wasn't sure what to make of Serana's speech, nor of the Greybeards' belief that she was a legend in the making. But, the Dragonborn relented, it would at least be worth it to find out for herself. "Alright," she said. "I'll do it."

* * *

The sun had already dipped below the horizon as Valkyrie and Serana reached the starting point of the Seven Thousand Steps at the base of the mountain. Ivory, as well as Serana's yet unnamed horse, appeared exhausted. Fitting, as it seemed most of Ivarstead was indoors already, preparing to bring the day to a close. Valkyrie didn't mind, as she herself felt the immense urge to sleep off the anxiety and doubtfulness she had experienced ever since Arngeir had revealed to her what he believed to be her destiny.

Taking the lead, Valkyrie headed straight for the nearby inn, ready to rent a room, drink herself to sleep, and snuggle up next to Serana until the morning light. Her plans seemed to derail the moment she and the vampire hitched their horses next to the building, as a man quickly approached them, more specifically, approached Serana. He was rather large, dressed in rags, bald, facial hair wild and unkempt. What was more noticeable was the glazed over look in his eyes, as though he were under a trance. "Are you Serana?" He asked rather lazily.

The Nord and the vampire quickly exchanged glances with one another. "Yes?" Serana apparently decided to take a chance on this man. "Who are you?"

The man gave no name, instead he only bowed to her, revealing a sealed letter. "My mistress has commanded me to deliver this message to you." She nervously took the letter from him, only for the man to shoot back upright as soon as the parchment had left his grasp. "And now that my task is complete, I must return to her." With this, the man turned on his heel, and bolted off to the edge of the village and beyond, quickly out of sight, as fast as his legs seemed able to carry him.

"What the fuck was that?" Valkyrie asked.

"That," Serana said, inspecting the letter. "Was a vampire's thrall. Which leads me to believe..." Her voice trailed off as she unsealed the letter. "Yep. This is my mother's penmanship." The Nord quickly moved closer, spying the letter over her lover's shoulder as Serana read aloud. _"Serana," _she began. _"I do hope Valkyrie and yourself are doing well. I realize you must be having a grand time gallivanting around the province with her, but recent events have transpired that have left me requiring your assistance." _Serana stopped, raising an eyebrow. _"The matter is quite urgent. Unfortunately, I cannot say more in this letter, just know that I desperately need your help. I have no one else to turn to. When you get this message, please make haste to Castle Volkihar, and I will explain all to you. Your loving mother, Valerica."_

Serana stared at the letter for quite a while, taking in exactly what Valerica had written. When a pureblood vampire was worried and nervous, and needed to reach out for help, it meant matters were deadly serious, and she needed to get to the castle quickly. "Shit," the vampire said, at last turning back to Valkyrie.

"I guess the horn of Jurgen Windcaller can wait," the Nord said.

Serana looked back down at her mother's letter, before shaking her head. "No, it can't."

"What?" Valkyrie asked. "So you're just going to ignore Valerica?"

"I didn't say that. I think..." The vampire sighed. "We both have things to do that are extremely important, and neither of them can afford to be put on hold for the other. Val, I..." she paused, taking a deep breath. "I think we need to split up for a bit."

The Nord's stomach sank. "Are you kidding?" She asked. "After that big speech earlier about how I'll always have you there?"

"I meant what I said," Serana replied. "But this is something I need to do. And going to get the horn is something _you _need to do."

Valkyrie struggled with her lover's words. On one hand, Serana was absolutely right. The vampire had to help her mother with whatever it was that was so dangerous for her to reach out for help. And she, the Dragonborn, had to complete the trial that those before her hand. But at the same time, they had been travelling together for so long, grown so close and attached, that the Nord wasn't sure she would know what to do without Serana at her side. At last, Valkyrie sighed. "Okay."

With her acceptance, Serana rushed forward, throwing her arms around the Nord's neck and forcing her into a warming embrace. She then pulled back, but only slightly, as to press their lips together. When the two finally pulled away from one another, their breaths were slightly more heavy and labored, but both had taken in the meaning. "You be safe, okay?" Serana said.

"And _you _be careful," Valkyrie said back, before the both of them declared in unison...

"I love you."

The vampire moved away from the Dragonborn, off to where their horses were hitched up next to the tavern. Oddly enough, Serana's black coated stallion seemed to be taking a liking to Ivory, Valkyrie's snow white mare. The irony wasn't lost on either of the two, as the vampire remarked as she saddled up. "Seems even our horses are in love. In that case, I think I've got a name for him."

"Oh?" Valkyrie asked.

"Yep," Serana smirked. "I'll call him Ebony."

These were the vampire's last words, before flicking the reins of her horse and riding off into the sunset, leaving Valkyrie proud, but also conflicted. She took a seat on the front porch of the inn, next to Ivory, pondering exactly what it was she was feeling. The vampire hadn't even been gone a full minute, and already Valkyrie missed her like crazy. The Nord laughed. She truly did have it bad for Serana.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"


	5. Unbound

_ **15th of Last Seed, 4E 201** _

_Leave it to me to get completely lost without Serana, _Valkyrie thought to herself. The last three days, despite her own attempts to find her way to Ustengrav, the Dragonborn found herself hopelessly without direction, her vampire had always been the navigator on their journeys. The long, seemingly endless road ahead of her, the sky a gorgeous hue of violet and orange from the sunset, and the rumbling of the Nord's stomach from nearly a day with no food only made her long to be back in Serana's company as soon as possible. She could only imagine what the vampire was getting up to with her mother, but it was likely for the best that both Valkyrie and Serana had split up for it.

Still riding atop Ivory, Valkyrie came to a sign next to the road, the path ahead leading into a forest. _Falkreath Hold, _it read. The Nord scoffed at herself. Falkreath was all the way at the southernmost region of Skyrim, Ustengrav located much further north in the Hold of Hjaalmarch. She had truly managed to get herself so lost as to be nearly on the opposite end of the province, nearly another week's ride from where she was supposed to be. _Well, _she considered. _I'm here. Might as well find somewhere to stop for the night. Get some food in me._

She continued to examine the sign, underneath the announcing of the Hold, were two secondary markings. The first read, _City of Falkreath, 53 miles. _Valkyrie groaned at the thought of riding that far on an empty stomach. Underneath, however, was another marking which read, _Helgen, 5 miles. _The Nord then smiled. "Well," she said out loud. "Looks like Helgen it is." She ran a hand over the back of Ivory's neck. "How about it, girl? Want to make a stop in town? Get you some hay and a nice bath?" The noble beast simply snorted. Valkyrie nodded her head, giving a crack to the horse's reigns.

Roughly an hour passed, Valkyrie's ride completely silent without banter from Serana, her only company the horse underneath her, which coincidentally enough wasn't much for conversation. The growling of the Nord's stomach continued to grow more rabid, which made her all the more relieved when Helgen finally came into view. But this particular town was not like the hobbles and villages that littered the province. The town was protected by a great stone wall which denied any and all view of the settlement. The only thing visible beyond the wall was a great watchtower that dwarfed all else. The road which Valkyrie and her horse strode upon led to a wooden gate etched into the stone, guarded at its entrance by two men.

In the ever growing darkness of twilight, Valkyrie could only just barely make out the both of them, each clad in red and brown leather. "Imperial soldiers," the Dragonborn muttered to herself. "Interesting." As she continued to approach, the two guards each drew their blades, as though ready to kill anyone who dare try to enter the village.

"Halt! In the name of the Emperor!" One of the men yelled, his voice deep and booming, and his accent giving away that he was _clearly _not from Skyrim. The two soldiers inched forward, causing Ivory to spook from underneath Valkyrie, the horse growing restless, refusing to stay still.

"Whoa!" Valkyrie attempted to calm the beast. "Easy, girl! It's alright!" Eventually, the Nord finally managed to calm her horse, but the soldiers were still armed, staring her down as though she were going to attack them at any moment. "Apologies for my horse," Valkyrie said after a moment, her tone slightly annoyed. "She tends to get skittish when people draw their weapons around her."

The two men quickly exchanged glances with one another, before grumbling and sheathing their swords. One of the men, the larger of the two, held up his hand and summoned a small fire in his palm, revealing his, as well as his partner's face. Both had relatively dark skin, clearly of Cyrodiilic descent, and both were soldiers of the Imperial Legion. "What's your business riding through here?" One of the soldiers asked rather sternly.

"I was supposed to be on my way to Hjaalmarch, but I got lost. As you can tell," Valkyrie snarked at the man. "I've been riding for three days and I'm tired."

"Well, you'll have to keep riding," the smaller soldier said, crossing his arms. "Town's closed."

"What?" The Nord was bewildered. "Why?"

"Because General Tulius demanded it so!" The mage soldier barked back at her.

"Who in Oblivion is General Tulius?" Valkyrie asked.

Both men looked at the Nord as though she were an idiot child, then proceeded to look at each other. "Good Gods," the smaller soldier laughed. "You Nord savages don't even know the names of your protectors!"

The Dragonborn's jaw twitched. It would be so easy to Shout her way past these two irritating men, force her way into town. But then, Arngeir likely wouldn't have approved of her misuse of the Voice, and more importantly, neither would Serana. Valkyrie simply groaned. "Listen," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I've been away from Skyrim for a while. Call it a... _pilgrimage, _I guess." She shrugged. "I'll forgive that _savage _remark if you bring me up to speed on current events."

"Oh, for the love of Mara!" the larger soldier scoffed. "Fine, if it'll get you out of our hair. Does the name Ulfric Stormcloak mean anything to you?"

Valkyrie racked her brain for a moment, the name ringing a distant bell. "I feel like I've heard it before," she said. "Not sure where, though. Who is he?"

"Jarl of Eastmarch," the smaller soldier said. "Rules the city of Windhelm. Or at least he did until recently. Because a few months ago, he marched into the Blue Palace in Solitude and murdered High King Torygg, in front of his wife and his court!"

The Nord's eyes widened. "Shit," she said.

"Shit, indeed," the man continued. "Crazy regicidal bastard wants Skyrim to secede from the Empire. All over the ban on Talos worship in the White Gold Concordat."

"The White Gold Concordat," Valkyrie recalled one of Ghorza's lessons from her childhood. "The peace treaty the Empire signed with the Thalmor? After the Great War?"

"That's the one," the mage spoke up. "Ulfric thinks the Empire turned its back on the Nord people, and so he wants to tear Skyrim away from us, and put himself on the High King's throne."

"So what does that have to do with the town being closed?" The Dragonborn asked.

"We captured him," the smaller soldier smiled widely. "And we plan to execute the sorry son of a bitch, as well as a few dozen of his followers in the morn."

"So," the larger soldier finally extinguished his fire, his hand now moving back to the hilt of his sword. "No strangers, no outsiders. Not until the execution is done tomorrow." He turned his head to spit at the ground. "Now, on your way, citizen."

Valkyrie reluctantly complied with the man, pulling at Ivory's reigns to set her back on the road in the opposite direction. As annoyed as she was at the two impudent soldiers denying her food and rest in the village, their tale seemed to stick in the Nord's mind. The High King had been murdered by a usurper? It was almost impossible to believe some madman could be so foolish as to think that he and a few dozen vagabonds could take on the entire Empire and secede from it so easily. Valkyrie quickly put the thought out of her mind, as political assassinations weren't going to help her find a place to rest for the night.

She could have possibly gone back to the forest, hunted for her food and made a nice fire to sleep next to. But then, there hadn't appeared to be many traces of game in the woods, and even if she had found a suitable meal for herself, it would have left her dear Ivory hungry and filthy still. Valkyrie turned to look back at the village gate, the two soldiers out front already seeming to forget she existed. She groaned, "Fuck it," and quickly turned her horse around, riding off to the side of the town's wall, while giving the soldiers a wide berth.

Valkyrie and Ivory circled around the wall for a bit, before stumbling around a corner into what looked like the village stables. A large barn, and inside several horses of various colors and breeds, and much to the Nord's luck, no stable master in sight. She breathed a sigh of relief, dismounting from Ivory, and leading the horse by the reigns to an empty stall in the back corner. "Don't worry, girl," Valkyrie said. "I'll be back for you in the morning. They'll feed you and bathe you while I'm gone." As the gate of the stall closed, Ivory let out a snort of approval, and the Dragonborn reached out to pet the mare's neck one last time before parting.

She peeked out of the barn, her surroundings mostly quiet, except for a faint light coming from around the corner of the village wall. Valkyrie guessed that it must have been another entrance, this one guarded by Imperial soldiers as well. There was no getting in the conventional way, not unless she wanted to be chased and hunted by the Legion and have a bounty on her head. So the Nord stepped out and went the opposite way, stepping as lightly as she could.

She followed along the wall for a bit, clinging as closely to the stone as she could, so as not to alert any soldiers who may have been walking the ramparts. Valkyrie analyzed every inch of the wall, at least all that she could see in the dark of night, looking for anything that could allow her to slip through or climb over unnoticed. Alas, there was no such luck, as she soon found herself back around at the other gate, with the two men who had hassled her earlier.

_Damn it, _Valkyrie thought, not even daring to peek around the corner. Helgen was a gods damned fortress, no way in or out without being spotted. _Unless, _the Dragonborn donned a clever smirk as an idea came to her. It seemed she would be using the Voice to force her way in after all, though not in the dramatic and bombastic manner she had imagined earlier. She knelt down at the corner of the wall, just barely hearing the two soldiers chatter on about whatever nonsense they were talking about. Valkyrie took a deep breath, and released her Voice, though not a Shout this time, but a whisper.

_ **"Zul Mey Gut..."** _

The essence of her Thu'um traveled far away from Valkyrie, far off into the distance, until Valkyrie's voice manifested itself from somewhere in the forest. **"Hey, assholes! Death to the Empire!"**

This was enough to get the soldiers' attention, both of them drawing their blades and rushing towards the sound with reckless abandon, leaving the gate completely unguarded. Valkyrie moved quickly, slipping around the corner and simply stepping through the gate. Much to her luck, the other side of the entrance had no soldiers guarding it. As the Dragonborn reached the inside of Helgen, she noticed it seemed quite busy for this time of night. The watchtower was the only building actually made of stone, the rest were standard huts made of wood and moss that one would have seen in any other settlement in Skyrim, yet the townsfolk bustled about from one hut to another. Luckily for Valkyrie, this made it quite easy to slip into town unnoticed.

She walked for a bit, doing her best not to bump into anyone or attract any attention, until she spotted the one building larger than any other, besides the tower. The tavern was unmistakable, and Valkyrie made a beeline for it.

* * *

Valkyrie stepped inside the inn, her senses immediately welcoming the sensastions, the smell of freshly brewed stew and cheap ale, the sounds of the patrons drinking and reveling, and the warmth from the fire pit that stood in the center of the place. Finally, perhaps now she could get some food and rest. The Nord stepped over to the bar, pulling up a stool. "I don't know what you have cooking," she said to the inkeep, who immediately looked up from the glass he was polishing and eyed her suspiciously. "But it smells amazing. How much for a bowl and a bottle of mead?"

The man narrowed his eyes at her, a look Valkyrie took exception to, but decided to leave it be at the risk of alerting the Imperials. "Seven septims," the man said lowly, and Valkyrie gladly complied setting a few coins on the counter while the barkeep fetched her an empty bowl and a bottle. "Ain't seen you around here before," the barkeep said as he pocketed the Nord's coin.

"I'm just passing through," Valkyrie replied as she uncorked the mead, taking a sizable swig.

"Uh huh. About that," The man leaned in closer. "From what I understand, the town's been closed off to travelers till after the execution. So I suspect you might have snuck in."

The Dragonborn slammed her drink down on the counter, doing her damnedest to stare directly into the barkeep's soul. "What's it matter?" She asked quietly, but with a trace of venom in her voice. "My coin is good and I'm not here to cause any trouble."

"That's what they all say," the inkeep shot back. "You a fucking Stormcloak?"

Valkyrie raised her eyebrow. "I don't know what that is, so no, I'm not." She took another drink. "Do you always harass your patrons like this?"

"Only the suspicious ones."

"Well your suspicion is unfounded," she stood up from the stool and grabbed the bowl. "After tonight you'll never see me again. Which reminds me, how much for a room?"

"Rate's double for visitors tonight," the inkeep sneered. "Twenty septims."

"You've got to be kidding me," Valkyrie groaned as she reached into her satchel. Her stomach proceeded to sink, as it turned out exactly twenty septims were all she had left. The Nord sighed, usually it had been Serana who paid for everything, having stolen a considerable amount of gold and valuables from her family's castle. With a sigh of frustration, she slapped the handful of coins down on the counter. "Fine," she said. "Not like I really have a choice."

The inkeep seemed quite pleased with himself, offering a gracious bow of his head to Valkyrie, who only rolled her eyes in return as she stepped away to the fire pit, above which a sizable pot of stew sat in the heat. Valkyrie wasted no time filling her bowl and downing the piping hot stew faster than she thought herself capable of. The Nord had clearly been more hungry than she thought. Although her hunger was now satisfied, the Dragonborn couldn't help but fixate her mind on that insufferable barkeep, extorting her for coin like that. She had half a mind to find the man and beat him into unconsciousness, but that particular course of action wouldn't have exactly kept with her intentions of laying low.

She looked back over to the bar to see that the man was now gone, likely stepped outside for a piss or to fetch some more ale. Valkyrie took the golden opportunity to sit back down and nurse the rest of her mead. This was her intention, but the Nord only got a few quick gulps in before the doors to the tavern slammed open, and six or seven Imperial soldiers rushed in, weapons brandished. The few tavern patrons left panicked, practically attaching themselves to the walls, and Valkyrie instinctively drew her own blade, ready to defend herself if need be. One of the soldiers, a woman, was clad in plate armor rather than leather, indicating her the leader of this particular band. And of course, in walked the inkeeper right behind her, a smug grin on his face that enraged Valkyrie.

"Is that her?" The Imperial captain demanded of the man.

"That's her, ma'am!" The inkeep exclaimed. "That's the Stormcloak spy!"

"You son of a bitch!" Valkyrie yelled from across the room as the subordinate soldiers moved to surround her. "I told you, I'm not a Stormcloak!"

"Of course," the captain replied sarcastically. "I'm sure you have a perfectly logical reason to sneak into a locked down military compound, where we just so happen to be executing an enemy of the Empire."

The Dragonborn prepared a biting, witty retort, but instead decided against it. These weren't outlaws or isolated vampires she was dealing with, these were Imperial soldiers, upholding the law as they saw fit, and fighting back would only land her in more trouble. Valkyrie breathed deeply. "Alright," she said. "I'm going to put my sword away now. I'm sure we can work through this... unfortunate misunderstanding." She slowly brought the blade into its sheath, and the soldiers appeared to relax, if only slightly. The captain offered Valkyrie a smile, and nodded her head in approval. It was only just a moment too late that the Nord realized the woman wasn't motioning to her, but behind her.

Something blunt hit the side of Valkyrie's head, and did so _hard. _She fell to the ground, her vision dazed and blurry. She tried to get back up, but a foot pressed into her back and forced her down to the floor yet again. Valkyrie couldn't even struggle, she was so disoriented, and only began coming to when the feeling of cold iron on her wrists made itself known. "No!" She protested weakly, unable to move her arms. "I swear, I'm not a fucking Stormcloak!"

She was then rolled over onto her back. Above her stood one of the soldiers at the gate, a mace in his hand with blood on the side. Her blood. The Legionaire laughed to himself before raising up his foot. "Nighty night, bitch." Valkyrie couldn't even utter a word before the solider slammed his foot into her face and her world went dark.

* * *

_ **17th of Last Seed, 4E 201** _

Valkyrie's head pounded and ached like it hadn't in years. Between questioning where exactly she was or what had happened the night before, the young Nord almost didn't notice that she had been chained to a wall in a rather large prison cell, with at least a dozen of her kinsmen as her cell mates. She moaned, the dull pain in the back of her skull unbearably irritating, and tried to wriggle her wrists out of their iron shackles. It was no use, her captors had made damned sure she and her fellow prisoners weren't going anywhere. Or so she thought, as suddenly the clanking of another's manacles alerted her. Valkyrie turned her head to the side, as far as she could with her limited mobility, to see two more Nords, both older men, and both looking like they had seen better days.

One of the men, his hair short and brown, dirt covering his face, appeared to be fiddling with his shackles. "Alright," he said to the Nord next to him, this one with lengthy blonde hair, and built like a tree trunk. "I think I've almost got them off."

"Good," the larger Nord said. "Hurry. We don't have much time before the execution starts. I plan to be long gone before they get the chance to lop my head off."

"You and me both, Ralof," the unnamed Nord said as he continued to work. The mens' conversation had helped wondrously to kickstart Valkyrie's memory. Sneaking into Helgen, the inkeeper extorting her for money, and her subsequent arrest and beat down from the town's Legionaires. She rested her head back against the wall, letting out a growl of anger and frustration. A few days without Serana, and here she was chained to the wall of an Imperial dungeon, about to be executed alongside a band of king killers?

The Nord named Ralof immediately took notice of Valkyrie's audible frustration. "Hey, you!" He said to her, scooting across the floor as far as he could, still tied to the wall. "You're finally awake. Those Imperials really did a number on you."

"Yeah, it feels like they did," Valkyrie groaned. "How long was I out?"

"If you want to be precise," Ralof said. "Just a few hours. But you've been in and out of consciousness for close to two days now. We kept thinking you weren't going to wake back up."

"Shit," the Dragonborn snarled. "I have to get out of here."

"Well," the unnamed Nord said as his manacles at last fell off his wrist. "In that case, all you have to do is sit tight." He quickly moved his hands to Ralof's wrists, now working on releasing his friend's shackles. "Just a minute or two and I should have these off."

"Good," the blonde Nord breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to Valkyrie. "They said you were one of us when they threw you in here, but I don't recognize you." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you one of us?"

"One of you?" Valkyrie asked, before realization hit her. "You mean a Stormcloak?" Ralof nodded. "No. My only crime was being tired and hungry in the wrong town. But the soldiers sure seemed to think I was a spy." The brown haired Nord working the shackles appeared to get a decent chuckle from that, so Valkyrie turned her attention to him. "What about you? Are you a Stormcloak... uh..." She paused. "I didn't get your name."

"Name's Lokir," the man said, still focusing on the iron binds. "And no, I'm not a rebel. Like you, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I'm being honest, Skyrim was fine until these Stormcloaks came along. Empire was nice and lazy." He shook his head, only slightly directed at Ralof, who simply rolled his eyes. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now."

"Well, you don't seem too fond of the Stormcloaks," Valkyrie questioned him. "So why help one escape with you?" Lokir simply shrugged.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now," Ralof said. "Even if the thief here escaped by himself, he probably wouldn't last long on his own."

It was then that one of their fellow prisoners, a female Nord, angrily whispered at them, "Quiet! Here comes the guard!" Almost instantly upon hearing this, Lokir repositioned himself back against the wall, trying to give the appearance that he was still bound. Through the bars of the cell, Valkyrie saw several Imperial soldiers very slowly escorting another prisoner past them. Each Imperial had a blade trained on this prisoner, clearly seen as a much larger threat, as opposed to herself and her esteemed cellmates.

The prisoner being escorted, much like Valkyrie and her fellow Nords, was dressed in decrepit rags. The difference was that this man's head was covered with a metal helmet, no holes carved out for the eyes or mouth, his hands were bound to his neck by a steel collar, and his ankles were also limited to close proximity to each other by even more steel bindings. It was clear that this man was dangerous, whoever he was. It seemed then that Valkyrie wasn't the only one wondering exactly who this prisoner was, as Lokir turned to ask Ralof, "Who in Oblivion is that?"

Ralof looked irritated that he even had to answer the question. "That's Ulfric Stormcloak, boy!"

"Leader of the Stormcloaks?" Lokir asked in disbelief.

"True High King of Skyrim, and heir to the Empire of Tamriel!" The blonde Nord exclaimed proudly.

It was now that Valkyrie had some questions of her own. Heir to the Empire? What on Nirn had Ralof been smoking to get such delusions? "Uh, Ralof?" Valkyrie asked her fellow prisoner. "He doesn't look much like an Imperial to me."

Ralof scoffed. "Not that Empire. They say Ulfric has the dragon blood in his veins, like the Dragonborn Emperors of old." _This _got Valkyrie's attention very quickly. This man claimed to have Dragon Blood? Like the Dragonborn Emperors? _Last time I checked, _I _was the Dragonborn, _Valkyrie thought to herself. Arngeir would have some explaining to do the next time she saw him, but not before she was able to question Ulfric himself.

It was now Lokir's turn to scoff. "Come on, Ralof. Everyone knows the Septims were all wiped out during the Oblivion Crisis."

"Uriel Septim's line was, yes," Ralof shot back. "But Tiber Septim used to be Talos of Atmora, and spawned several bloodlines over the course of centuries. Ulfric is the last living descendant of old Tiber Septim himself."

Valkyrie had so many questions buzzing about in her head. A lost heir to the Septim dynasty? If such were the case, why hadn't anyone spoken up about it until now, two hundred years later? But it seemed her questions would have to wait until later, as soon as Ulfric and his Imperial escort were out of sight, another group of soldiers, about three of them, followed up from behind. One of them unlocked the door to the cell, a smug grin on his face as he stepped inside, clearly taking pleasure in lording over the prisoners.

"Well, boys and girls," he said proudly. "This is it. End of the road. Whatever Gods you may acknowledge, now is the time to start praying." He quickly moved to the prisoner closest to him, which unfortunately happened to be Lokir. The soldier grabbed the Nord by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him to his feet, inadvertently revealing he had broken his binds. Lokir didn't even have a chance to explain before the Imperial grabbed him by the forehead, and quickly, viciously slammed it against the wall.

Lokir slid back down the wall, a trail of blood staining the stone behind him, clearly dead. Valkyrie was horrified. All her childhood, Ghorza and Moth had taught her that the Empire protected Skyrim and its people, that Legionaires were noble warriors who would never harm the innocent. This was apparently the only example she had of their gentle, protective nature. "Now then," the soldier turned to Ralof. "You plan on trying to escape as well?" Ralof said nothing in response, and the soldier seemed satisfied. He grabbed the blonde brute by the arm and forced him upward, by extension forcing Valkyrie to her feet as she was the next prisoner in line, her shackles connected to his.

It was then that the Dragonborn began to panic, fear and realization sinking in quickly. _Fuck, I'm actually going to die._

* * *

The soldier led the dozen or so prisoners out of their shared cell, up several flights of stairs, and through a winding maze of corridors. Valkyrie didn't care, every wall, every door, every soldier sneering at her as she passed all looked the same. She didn't want to die. Dear Gods, she didn't want to die. It was a fear that the Nord hadn't felt in years, since witnessing her family being slaughtered by vampires. But at last the Dragonborn snapped herself out of it. What was she so afraid of? If there appeared no other way of escaping, she would have no choice but to Shout her way out of Helgen.

The line of prisoners at last reached the outside, the sting of the morning sun almost blinding Valkyrie, having been kept in a dark and damp cell for Gods knew how long. She and the Stormcloak soldiers were led from the keep below the watchtower through the main road of the village, where townsfolk jeered, taunted, and hissed at them with every step. Some even took to throwing rotten food, rocks, or even spitting on them as they passed. One particular gob of spit happened to hit Valkyrie right in the cheek, and she quickly turned her head to see it had come from the inkeep from the other night, still as smug as ever. She glared at him furiously. _Oh, I hope you stand in my way when I get out of here, _she thought to herself. _You son of a whore._

Eventually, the line of prisoners was brought to a halt next to the opposite end of the tower, where several more Imperial soldiers waited, including the captain who had ambushed Valkyrie, a masked headsman already sharpening his axe, and standing dead center was a much older man of Cyrodiilic descent, his plate armor much more lavish and decorated than his fellow Imperials. Perhaps this was the General Tulius the guard at the gate had spoken of?

One of the soldiers walked behind the line of prisoners, releasing their binds to each other, but still keeping the manacles around their wrists. _Of course, _Valkyrie thought. _Can't make this too easy. _Her eyes quickly darted around her surroundings, looking for anything at all that could be used to escape. So far, the only weapons in sight were those belonging to the Legionaires, and the headsman's axe. The Imperial captain stepped forward now, bellowing out to the prisoners, "Step forward when your name is called! One at a time!"

Another soldier beside her, this one also a Nord, brandished a quill and paper, clearing his throat. "Ulfric Stormcloak!" He said with authority. "Jarl of Eastmarch!" From the very ends of her line of vision, Valkyrie spotted the man in the iron helmet, very slowly being brought forward by no less than three soldiers. He was stopped just in front of the headsman's block, and one of the soldiers proceeded to remove his helm. Ulfric Stormcloak's face was, much like his fellow prisoners, covered with dirt, soot, and also scars, ones that indicated years of battle. Like Ralof, his hair was long and blonde, reaching down well past his jawline. The most interesting detail, however, was that he was gagged.

_Hmm... he claims to have Dragon Blood, _Valkyrie pondered. _Maybe he knows how to Shout? And that's why they bound his mouth?_

Her questions were not to be answered just yet, as the older Imperial stepped in front of Ulfric now, nearly a full head shorter than the Nord, but with no fear shown. "Ulfric Stormcloak," the General addressed him loudly, likely the makings of a speech. "Many in Skyrim believe you to be a hero, a boon sent by the Gods to free them from their responsibilities as citizens of the Empire!" He now turned to the townspeople who had gathered to watch. "But ask yourselves this, would a hero use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne?"

_"No!" _The villagers answered in unison.

"Would a hero start a war he can't possibly win?" Tulius continued. "Plunge an entire province into chaos and send hundreds of men and women to their deaths?"

_"No!"_

"And would a hero hide behind the lives of his followers when he is captured?" The General now turned back to Ulfric, whose eyes showed ever more rage and disdain with each passing word. "Instead of fighting to his honorable death like a true warrior?"

_"No!"_

Tulius smirked. "You claim to be a lost heir to the Septim dynasty, but what proof do you have?" He turned away from the Jarl, now eyeing the headsman's block. "Your supposed ancestry is just another lie you have told the people of Skyrim to get what you want." He shook his head. "You are no hero, Ulfric. You are a madman with a lust for power who cares nothing for the innocent lives that are destroyed in his path. And here today, the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

With this, the crowd of townspeople cheered raucously, clearly eager to see the sight of heads rolling. Valkyrie not so much, as all through the Imperial general's speech, she had been searching for a means of escape, and thus far had found none. "You will watch your precious followers die lose their heads underneath the axe," Tulius continued to Ulfric. "And then, finally, it will be your turn." The general then whistled, and a horse came from seemingly out of nowhere, trotting up alongside him. Tulius quickly mounted up, before speaking then to the captain.

"Bring his head to Solitude when you're done."

With this final command, Tulius cracked the reigns of his mount and rode off, down the main road of the village to the outer gate. The Nord with the list then continued calling names. "Halbjorn of Windhelm!" This went on for some time, as Stormcloak after Stormcloak stepped up to the headsman's block, ready to face their deaths with courage, and each one promptly losing their heads. Each time someone's head was removed from their shoulders, the townsfolk cheered, hollered, and whooped like they were witnessing a grand occasion.

After several soldiers had been executed, Valkyrie's apprehension began to return. They were getting closer and closer to her, and still she saw no means of escape. Fighting her way out while bound, armed only with the Thu'um didn't look all that promising. At last, the big Nord with the list turned to face her, and instead of calling her name, he quickly marched forward, staring her directly in the eyes.

"What is your name, prisoner?"

"Valkyrie of Karthwasten," she answered. "And I'm _not _a Stormcloak, no matter what that bastard at the inn might have told you."

"It's true," Ralof interjected from beside her. "She's not one of us."

"Shut up, Ralof!" The Imperial Nord barked at his blonde kinsmen, indicating the two clearly knew each other. He turned back to Valkyrie. "Your name isn't on the list. How exactly did you wind up in a prison cell with Ulfric Stormcloak's personal guard?"

Valkyrie sighed. "I admit, I snuck into town last night. I was tired and hungry and I didn't feel like riding even further."

"You said you're from Karthwasten?" The soldier asked her. "Was this before or after the town was rebuilt a few years ago?"

"I didn't even know it had been rebuilt," the Dragonborn shrugged. "So before, I guess. I was the only survivor when it was massacred back in 188. Managed to make my way to Markarth after, and the Jarl's blacksmith took me in."

"Hmm," The Imperial Nord scratched his chin. "So let me get this straight. You are not a rebel, and also claim to be a loyal subject of Jarl Igmund, who has publicly declared his support for the Empire."

"Yes," Valkyrie said, slightly annoyed that she had to keep explaining herself.

"Well, then it seems today is your lucky day," The soldier put away his list. "Men!" He shouted to a few of the other Legionaires. "Take her back to the holding cells." He then faced Valkyrie once more. "You'll be our... _guest _until we can contact Igmund. If he vouches for you, you'll be free to go. You'll also receive adequate compensation for your trouble."

"And if he doesn't?" The Dragonborn asked, the possibility only now crossing her mind.

"Then I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do," The soldier bowed his head.

"Always knew you were a heartless bastard, Hadvar," Ralof sighed, only for the one named Hadvar to deliver a vicious blow to his gut, forcing Ralof to his knees. Valkyrie almost felt sorry for the poor Stormcloak, but was ultimately distracted a moment later, by a sound that seemed to come directly from the sky. And it seemed she wasn't the only one to notice, as each and every villager, Imperial, and the remaining Stormcloaks all looked upward. Valkyrie had no idea what exactly the noise was, but felt in the pit of her gut that it meant trouble.

When the initial shock of the noise had subsided, the Imperial captain marched over to Hadvar, looking rather enraged that he had demanded Valkyrie be spared. "What are you doing, soldier?" She demanded. "This woman is clearly a Stormcloak spy!"

"I'm following General Tulius' orders, captain," Hadvar barked back at her. "We're supposed to be establishing a line of communication with Whiterun. If we executed an innocent person without investigating, how do you think Jarl Balgruuf would react?"

"I am in charge of this execution!" The captain yelled.

"But I outrank you, and thus I am overruling you," Hadvar put the captain in her place, a very welcome sight for Valkyrie, who was already growing to hate this captain almost as much as the inkeeper. "If she isn't who she claims to be, I'll take responsibility. But for now," he then faced his subordinate soldiers, nodding to them.

One of the Imperials grabbed Valkyrie by the arm, yet before he could lead her away to the cells, the strange noise from the sky sounded out again, this time seeming much louder and much closer. It also sounded decidedly more monstrous, like the roar of a great beast. Valkyrie's eyes widened as she considered the possibility. No, it was impossible, the creatures had been extinct for centuries. There was no way that a-

The roar came again, still even closer, and before Valkyrie had any time to continue doubting, a _dragon _flew over the horizon, landing square on top of the tower, its sheer mass shaking the entire structure, as well as the ground below it. For the briefest of moments, all was silent, the soldiers, rebels, and villagers awestruck by the majesty of this creature. Then the dragon Shouted,

_ **"STRUN BAH QO!"** _

Within an instant, the sun disappeared behind black clouds, and heavy, pounding rain poured down from them. Lightning began striking the ground with alarming prejudice, and as a result, there was panic. The headsman and soldiers abandoned the execution entirely, the townsfolk tried to flee the dragon's wrath. There were so many bodies rushing around, looking for a way to escape, that Valkyrie could barely move, every other second being jostled around by a terrified villager. Oddly enough, the Dragonborn felt less terrified now than when she was sure of her execution. She had defeated a dragon before, she could do it again. All she needed was her gear.

At last, the dragon flapped its wings, rising up from the tower, just before a deafening crack of lightning struck it, and the structure proceeded to tip over. In Valkyrie's direction. The Nord quickly turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could to avoid being crushed by the watchtower, and just barely managed to be clear before the entire thing hit the ground. The impact was so great, however, that it still knocked Valkyrie to the ground, dazing her and blurring her vision. For a moment, nothing made sense, then suddenly, Ralof was there, still bound, and shaking her with his foot.

"Come on, kinsman!" The rebel soldier yelled. "The Gods won't give us another chance!"

Valkyrie understood. Luckily, the impact of the tower had somehow broken her manacles, she now had free mobility, and so she and Ralof sprinted away from the wreckage, into the keep where they had been held prisoner. Valkyrie barred the doors behind them, now noticing that she and Ralof were not alone. Ulfric Stormcloak himself was here, still bound and still gagged. Valkyrie wanted nothing more than to question the man about his supposed Dragon Blood, but reasoned that escaping the dragon's wrath would be a more worthy cause at the moment. "Hey!" Ralof said to Valkyrie. "Grab that axe on the wall there!"

The Dragonborn complied immediately, and when Ralof turned away from her, proceeded to chop through the chains that held his shackles together. She then thought it only fair to do the same with Ulfric. When the Jarl of Eastmarch's hands were finally free, he proceeded to ungag himself, and placed a hand on Valkyrie's shoulder. "I thank you, sister," he said lowly. "May the Gods preserve you." Ulfric Stormcloak then snatched the axe from Valkyrie's hand, and proceeded to kick the doors open, rushing outside to meet the dragon.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Valkyrie yelled back at him, before being taken back by Ralof.

"Don't worry about him," the rebel said. "Ulfric knows what he's doing. He'll catch up with us."

The Dragonborn had sincere doubts that this man could go toe to toe with a dragon. She had defeated one, true, but only after having her strength amplified by vampiric blood, and with the help of two other powerful vampires at her side. But rather than follow Ulfric outside to her possible demise, she spun right around and followed Ralof further into the keep. The Stormcloak rebel swore up and down there was a hidden passage leading to the outside of town somewhere, that he had spied it while being taken to the cells. Valkyrie hoped for his sake that he was right, because even the inside of the fortress continued to shake from the dragon's rampage, every so often a wall would collapse or a chunk of the ceiling would cave in. Time was running out.

Ralof led Valkyrie through a winding maze of hallways and tunnels, each one surprisingly lacking in Imperial soldiers, though the Dragonborn guessed they were likely busy being slaughtered outside. In truth, it didn't matter much to her. They had arrested her on false pretenses, killed an innocent man right in front of her, and then tried to send her to the chopping block to be executed. Eventually, the pair of them reached a staircase, one that seemed to lead upwards, onto the ramparts of the outer wall. Valkyrie and Ralof rushed upwards, and upon reaching the top, came into a hallway with a massive chunk of wall missing, likely destroyed by the dragon, but giving them a view to the outside.

All of Helgen was burning, corpses lined the road from top to bottom, Imperials, Stormcloaks, and civilians alike had fallen prey to this beast. Amidst the fire, ruin, and death, however, Valkyrie spied one singular survivor on the opposite end of the village. None other than Ulfric himself, actually holding his own against the monster. Valkyrie was already impressed, her own expectations of Ulfric being thoroughly exceeded, but what the Jarl did next shocked her. The dragon hovered above the brutish Nord, staying just out of reach of his axe. It was then that Ulfric _Shouted _at the creature.

_ **"FUS RO DAH!"** _

The force of Ulfric's Voice knocked the dragon out of the air, its bronze scaled body crashing into the ground with a force that shook its surroundings, but the Nord warrior kept his balance. While the beast was stunned, he quickly rushed over and proceeded to slice his axe into its neck, again, and again, and again, _and again. _The dragon ceased all movement, showed no signs of life, and Ulfric dropped to one knee, clearly exhausted. Even from all this distance away, Valkyrie had _felt _the force of Ulfric's Thu'um, and her questions only continued to pile up. "He can Shout?" She asked out loud. "Where in Oblivion did he learn to do that?"

"That's Ulfric for you," Ralof said with pride. "The Dragonborn, and last son of Talos."

Arngeir definitely had some explaining to do. All of the old man's blustering about how she was the only Dragonborn of this age, and here was this man seemingly able to Shout just as easily as her. Then again, the monk had also told her that it was possible for others to learn how to use the Voice. Had Ulfric learned from the Greybeards? So many questions entered her mind, and it seemed the best man to answer them was none other than Ulfric Stormcloak.


	6. Memories, Pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, I'm not dead, and neither is this story. In case some of you have been living under a rock, there's a plague spreading around the globe and things are a bit scary. I've also been laid off from my job and have spent most of my time trying to make sure I'm not homeless within the next few months. On top of that, rather than fan fiction, I've also been doing a lot of work on a wholly original novel that I'd like to get published at some point. Whether or not this work will see the light of day remains to be seen. But I just want to say thank you to everyone who still may be interested in this story for your patience. I will finish Valkyrie's story once and for all.
> 
> Until next time...

_ **16th of Last Seed, 4E 201** _

It was a strange feeling for Serana to be standing once again on the shores of Isle Volkihar. After the battle with Harkon, the pure blooded vampire never once considered the possibility of returning, content to leave the castle and the memories it held, both pleasant and painful, to the past. And yet, Valerica required her help, a request that Serana was simply in no position to refuse. As she slowly stepped onto the bridge leading to the main gate, she noticed the man, or rather, the thrall who had delivered the message from her mother back in Ivarstead, still built like a mountain and still ragged from head to toe.

The man said nothing, only opting to bow as Serana approached. She could only wonder what had become of the old gate keeper whom Harkon had once been in control of. Had the old man perished in the battle the previous year? Had he been commanded to hide out somewhere safe, only to be freed of her father's control upon his demise? There was no way of knowing, sadly. As Serana stood motionless in front of the main gate, the memories of her past came flooding into her mind. She remembered the very first time she had laid eyes upon this place...

* * *

_"Mother, look!"_

_Valerica seemed delighted to turn her attention away from her husband, who simply couldn't stop marveling at the castle that was to be their new home. Instead, the woman knelt down to young Serana's side, who had taken command over nearly a dozen small stones found on the island's shores, making them float through the air, dance with one another in dazzlingly intricate patterns. For a moment, Valerica said nothing, and Serana began to worry that distracting her mother was about to lead to yet another lecture._

_Thankfully, Valerica began to smile genuinely, giving her daughter a pat on the shoulder. "Well, well," she said. "You've made quite a lot of progress the last few weeks."_

_"You really think so?" Serana asked, beaming._

_"I do," Valerica nodded. "You're already more skilled than I was at your age. At this rate, you'll be ready to take the trials of Jhunal before you reach your thirteenth name day."_

_Serana began to glow with joy. The acceptance of her mother was truly the only thing the young girl had sought after in her short life. Ever since Serana had shown an aptitude for magic, Valerica had taken it upon herself to oversee her daughter's progress very closely. She had come to see her daughter's success as her own, even if her dear husband couldn't be bothered to take an interest to anything that didn't benefit him directly. After Serana and Valerica's moment of bonding over the young girl's progress, the both of them looked on to see that Harkon hadn't even bothered to take a glance back, too enthralled by the view of his new castle._

_Valerica sighed, taking young Serana by the hand and leading her to their patriarch's side. Harkon sighed with a great deal of satisfaction. "Is it not beautiful, my wife?"_

_"It's certainly impressive, dear," the woman reluctantly agreed with him. "Although I'm still confused as to why you saw fit to move us out to an island. We're so removed from the rest of the province..."_

_"Ah, but that's precisely the point," Harkon said. "I've eyed this castle since I was a boy. I remember going hunting with my cousins along the northern shores, seeing its breathtaking image from across the bay. I always thought, _whoever lives there must be quite important." _He turned to face his wife, grinning slyly. "And at last, it went up for sale. At last, _my _family is a symbol of power and wealth." He chuckled. "Not to mention, with my fortune ever growing, my coin going into the pockets of our workers, feeding their children, keeping roofs over their heads and clothes on their backs... Well," he stepped forward towards the castle, before taking a glance back at the mainland. "It certainly won't hurt my bid for the High King's throne."_

_Valerica let go of Serana's hand, stepping directly in front of her husband, furious. Serana sensed where this was going, as it seemed all her parents did anymore was scream at one another, and the girl quickly put her hands over her ears, desperate to block it out._

_"Are you joking?!" Valerica demanded. "You moved your daughter and your_ pregnant wife,"_ she pointed at her stomach. "A__ll the way across the province to some secluded island as some mad power move? For a throne that isn't even vacant?"_

_"Not yet it isn't," Harkon said, clearly unfazed by his wife's outburst._

_"Husband," Valerica sighed. "I implore you, if King Halskar finds out you're plotting against him-"_

_"Halskar is a decrepit old fool who barely remembers the names of his subjects," Harkon cut her off. "All the jarls know his time in this world is borrowed as it is." He looked past his wife, back to the great looming shadow of their castle. "When the old man finally croaks, that will be my chance. I will finally be able to provide my family with the life they deserve."_

_"Hmph," his wife scoffed. "Is it truly for our sake that you seek power? Or just your own?"_

_This enraged Harkon, the man's eyes began to widen in anger. He grabbed Valerica by the scruff of her collar. She made a small attempt to free herself, but her husband's grip was much to strong. "How dare you!" He growled at her. "Everything I do, everything I have sacrificed," he poked a finger into her chest. "Is for you!" He pointed to Serana, now curled up into a ball on the ground. "For her!" He then jabbed his finger into Valerica's stomach. "And for him!"_

_"Stop it!" Serana found herself unable to keep from crying out any longer. "Please stop fighting!"_

_Harkon immediately released his wife, although he made no effort to comfort his child. Valerica instead rushed to Serana's side, cradling her daughter's head into her breast. "Shhh," the woman whispered into her child's ear. "It's alright, my daughter." She glared at Harkon, who showed no remorse, no pity, no empathy. Such emotions were only displays of weakness, as he often said. But even Harkon finally relented as the sounds of his daughter softly weeping caught his ears._

_"There there, my girl," he said, his tone awkward, clearly unaccustomed to showing any sort of affection to his family. "It's over now. Everything is alright." Such a short moment was Harkon's momentary display of compassion, yet it ended as quickly as it began. He turned away from his family, once again marveling at the sight of their castle. "Now then," he said, once again composed. "The workers will have our belongings moved in by the end of the day, and tomorrow night we will be hosting a banquet. I trust the both of you will not embarrass me like last time?"_

_Valerica only glared a hole through her husband, but ultimately gave in to his controlling, possessive nature. This was the man she had married, the father of her children. And so she had to make it work. "Of course," she said. "My love..."_

* * *

Serana sighed. If she had only known then how it would all have turned out. But then, even if such were the case, she had only been a child, barely into her twelfth year. What on Nirn could she have done to change the course of her life? And even if there were some way to change it all, would it have been worth it? To have never known Valkyrie's love and wake up to her face each morn, as temporary as it was? To finally know the freedom of being her own person, no longer stuck under the thumb and shadow of her parents?

The vampire sighed, opening the door, and stepping inside her old home for the first time in over a year. Much to her surprise, the castle seemed relatively empty of her kind, the only souls inhabiting the place seeming to be her mother's new thralls, or what little cattle the elder vampire had been able to scrounge up for herself. Serana stepped through the entry hall, down the stairs at the end, and into the main dining hall where even more of her past called out into her memory. It was here where her father's descent into madness had truly begun, in a time where the tables had been graced by actual food instead of human remains, and the floor was not eternally stained by blood.

It had been so long ago, centuries now, even, and yet Serana remembered the night of the banquet quite freshly. One of many moments that stuck in her mind despite her efforts to forget, to block them out.

* * *

_"Found you!"_

_Serana scowled at the young boy, a fellow Nord, who clumsily pulled away the drapery she had been hiding behind. How on Nirn were all these children so much better than her at hide and seek? Accepting defeat, the young girl let out a great sigh, and began to follow him back to the main hall, where the other children were gathered, alongside the dozens of adults scattered throughout the castle. There was one thing that was pleasant about these banquets, at least. Harkon's guests often brought their own children, many of them around Serana's age._

_"Found our _princess," _the boy said snidely, a smirk on his face, one that earned him a punch to the arm from Serana. Oh, how she _despised _that nickname._

_"Shut your mouth, Varl," Serana growled at him, a viciousness in her tone that made the boy step a few feet away, which garnered a laugh from the other children._

_"Look at that," another girl said, this one a Breton. "Serana has fangs. I told you all there was more to her than the fancy gown and title."_

_"You're only sayin' that 'cause you got a crush on her, Elvie!" A Redguard boy said, causing both girls in question to immediately blush furiously, and the rest of the children to burst out in laughter. "I bet you were hopin' you'd find her instead a' Varl, maybe get behind those curtains with 'er for a while." This earned the boy a decisive slap from Elvie, followed by even more of the children's laughter. "Ow!" The boy said, nursing his cheek. "What was that for?"_

_"For being a simpleton," the girl named Elvie snarked at him. "So, who wants to go another round?"_

_"We've been playing hide and seek for almost an hour!" Varl began to whine. "I hate these feasts! Never anything fun to do."_

_"Well, we're agreed on that much," Serana said, crossing her arms. One of the other children opened their mouth to respond, but the entire room suddenly fell silent, the main doors flying open, and the sound of trumpets filled the air with their obnoxious, unwelcoming bite. The High King was announcing his presence. Which meant Serana's fun was over, her parents would now require her to be at their side for the rest of the night so that they could continue putting on a show for their guests._

_King Halskar marched into the room as if he owned the place, wobbling slightly to suggest he had already begun his own merriment well before arriving on the island. Dressed in easily the finest robes in the room, even more prestigious quality than her parents, Serana noted, a great red beard with hints of gray that hung down over his stomach. And of course, the crown that lay upon his head, allegedly made of the bones and teeth of dragons, but Serana knew better. Dragons were simply an old tale that parents told their children. Well, that _other _parents told their children._

_There was also a boy just behind Halskar. His hair also red, and his tunic, embroidered with the symbol of Solitude, and the way he puffed out his chest all suggested him to be the king's son. _Strange, _Serana thought to herself. She had no idea that Halskar actually had children._

_No sooner had the king entered the hall, did he immediately head for the feast table, grabbing a sizeable bottle of mead and guzzling it down as if it were water. It was at this point the other guests returned to their own business, their own conversations. As much as Serana wished she could be among them, now that King Halskar was here, it meant her father had come to fetch her not a moment later. She felt Harkon's hand gently come down onto her shoulder, and the two of them walked across the room to greet their king._

_"Your majesty," Harkon said as they approached, bowing his head as only he could. "It is a privilege to welcome you into our new home." Serana said nothing, only giving a short curtsy as her parents had instructed._

_"Is it now?" Halskar boomed, his mouth half full of mutton. "It's the strangest thing, Harkon. I don't believe I received an invitation to your little party."_

_"I-" Harkon stuttered. "I promise I sent one to the palace as per usual. Perhaps our courier may have gotten lost. Or killed by wolves. You know how it is, my lord."_

_"I do know," the king sneered, before looking down at Serana, in a manner that unnerved her in ways she wasn't quite comfortable with. "This your daughter? She was barely the size of my foot last time I saw her."_

_"Indeed," Harkon continued. It was clear that it was killing him having to suck up to his High King, but the nobleman managed to keep up the charade. "You know, Serana has recently shown herself to be something of a prodigy in the magical arts." Serana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, _now _her father took an interest._

_"That so?" The king asked, more of her than of Harkon._

_"Yes, your majesty," Serana nodded. "I'm hoping to begin the Trials of Jhunal soon."_

_Halskar laughed. "I see. Maybe you'll end up being a half decent court wizard once my boy becomes king." At the mention of this, Harkon gritted his teeth together, though quickly turned his head away, forcing a cough to try and hide it. "That reminds me, you've never met my son," the king continued. "Boy! Come here!"_

_Within a moment, the young red-haired Nord boy had joined them. "Yes, sir?" He asked of his father. Serana noticed that the young man's voice was oddly deep for a boy of his age. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than Serana herself. She also noted that up close, the prince was quite handsome. He must have gotten that from his mother, she decided._

_"Harkon, Serana," Halskar threw an arm around his son's shoulder. "This is Sedric, my first born son, and future High King of Skyrim!"_

_Sedric bowed his head gracefully. "A pleasure to meet both of you. Thank you for your generous hospitality."_

_It seemed Harkon was about to reply to the boy, but was quickly cut off by his king once more. "Now, where's that wife of yours, Harkon?" He said, before downing another swig of mead. "These feasts of yours aren't complete without her."_

_"Valerica... isn't feeling well today, your majesty," Harkon said carefully. "She's currently with child. Our second one."_

_"Ah, such a shame," Halskar shook his head. "The sight of that woman always brightened the room." Out of the corner of her eye, Serana just barely noticed her father's jaw twitch. It was taking everything Harkon had not to throttle the king's bloated, drunken self in front of all who attended. She then noticed a look in Sedric's eyes as well, one that screamed _get me out of here. _For one, she eagerly shared the boy's desperation to escape their fathers' subtle but infuriating power game, and she also found herself rather curious about this boy, looking only a year or two older than herself, so she hatched a plan of escape for the both._

_"It's Sedric, correct, my lord?" She asked him._

_"It is, but you can leave off the _my lord _part," the boy answered with the slightest tinge of annoyance._

_"Hogwash, that!" Halskar boomed. "You'd better get used to people calling you that if you're going to succeed me."_

_"Yes, father," Sedric sighed._

_"If you'd like," Serana continued. "I can show you around the castle. I'd hate to be a poor host."_

_The boy seemingly picked up on what she was getting at. "That sounds excellent," he then turned to the king. "I'll be back in a bit, father."_

_The two wasted exactly no time getting as far away as possible from their fathers, despite not being able to leave the castle. It wasn't long before they found themselves in some lost corridor deep within the maze that was the castle. "So," Sedric said after the both of them were confident they weren't in earshot of anyone. "The king's son and the nobleman's daughter."_

_"Do you hate it as much as I do?" Serana asked._

_"Hmph," the boy scoffed. "I don't have to work a day in my life, I have the best food, the best trainers, servants waiting on me hand and foot day in and day out," his voice was thick with sarcasm, earning both a pang of sympathy from Serana as well as a touch of admiration. "What else could I possibly want, right?"_

_"I feel your pain," she sighed. "My father wants me to be a proper little _high society _girl, but I'm just not."_

_"He has this image of what you should be in his head," Sedric guessed. "And that image is nothing like who you really are. I can relate."_

_"I'm sure."_

_The boy looked down at his tunic. "My father wants me to be his successor when he dies. Continue the tradition of being Skyrim's great _warrior king," _he sighed. "I mean, I'm alright with an axe, but I don't want to be king. I just want to enjoy being a kid while I still can."_

_Serana nodded her head in silent agreement. Although she had only just met this boy, she felt a sense of kinship with him, the both of them born into lives of great importance and responsibility, neither of which they had ever once asked for. They continued to talk for some time, exchanging mockery of their fathers' bloated egos, of the other nobles and Jarls who desperately licked their boots, hoping for even a shred of their favor. Serana found herself laughing harder and more genuinely than she had in some time. Eventually, however, Sedric suggested the both of them get back to the feast, and Serana reluctantly agreed._

_No sooner had they returned to the main hall, everyone still feasting and merrymaking as if they had never left, Serana was ambushed by her father. This time was not like the others, however, for although the man showed his usual signs of irritation when she or her mother embarrassed him at one of his banquets, there was a faint hint of concern in his eyes as well._

_"Serana," he said. "Have you seen your mother?"_

_"No," she answered honestly. "The last time I talked to her was this morning in her garden."_

_"Damn it," Harkon was on the verge of shouting, but quickly regained himself._

_"Maybe she's in her drawing room?"_

_"Perhaps," he said, before grabbing his daughter by the wrist. "Come, Serana. I need you to help me look for her."_

_"Ow!" Serana wriggled, but was unable to break free of her father's grip. She turned her head backwards, to where Sedric stood motionless. "It was wonderful to meet you!" She called back to him. Whether the boy had bothered to answer her, Serana never found out, as Harkon was leading her away from the main hall as quickly as seemed possible. It was once Sedric was out of sight that she began to ponder. Where exactly had Valerica run off to? Even with her mother not feeling well, it wasn't like her to be practically absent from the feast._

_Serana and Harkon trailed upwards, a flight of stairs just outside the main hall eventually leading them to Valerica's drawing room, where her mother practiced her alchemical and magical arts. It was only now that the young girl began to worry about her mother's well being. There was practically no trace of her anywhere in the castle, no sign that she'd been anywhere except her garden in the courtyard and here._

_Harkon cautiously opened the door, he and his daughter both woefully unprepared for the sight that lay on the other side._

_Valerica was curled up on the floor in a fetal position, stark naked, a pool of blood next to her. The woman didn't even bother to acknowledge her family entering the room, instead focusing only on gently caressing a minuscule figure in the center of the pool. Serana was nearly able to comprehend exactly what it was she was witnessing, until her mother at last looked up at them, tears in her eyes. Valerica had miscarried._

_Serana's felt her stomach twist, and was unable to do anything but turn in the other direction as a swath of vomit erupted from her mouth. This was horrible. She had no idea what to say, to do. As the tears began to flow from her own eyes as well, she saw Harkon fall to his knees. In all her life, Serana had never seen her father show any sort of _ _vulnerability, yet here he was, dragging his knees across the floor to gently hold the frail, pitiful wretch that would have been his son._

_"Serana," he said softly, an uncharacteristic quiver in his voice. "Fetch me a clean sheet. Please..."_

* * *

Though the events of the banquet were etched into Serana's mind, many others were a blur. She had a vague recollection of burying her unborn brother in the garden, but Divines only knew what had become of his makeshift grave in the centuries that followed, especially considering Harkon's rampage that followed Valerica whisking her and the Elder Scroll away. Perhaps that night had been the beginning of the end for her family, but there was no real way to know for sure.

Serana continued through the main hall, undisturbed by her mother's thralls walking about, obediently performing whatever duties the elder vampire had set them to. They had seemingly cleaned up the feast hall, as there was no trace of the wreckage she and Valkyrie had made while battling Harkon. As much as Serana wanted to believe that the past was over, that she was finally free of her father's influence, the memories of him, of her family, couldn't help but be prominent in her mind. As she reached the top of the stairs outside the main hall, she came upon her old bedchamber.

All of the vampire's better senses were screaming at her to leave it be, that Harkon was dead, and so was his grip over her, and yet Serana found herself unable to stop from entering the room. Much to her shock, it had been left completely untouched, even after she had left with the Elder Scroll a second time. Why on Nirn her father wouldn't have gone on yet another rampage, Serana simply had no idea. Although her curiosity was now satisfied, and she was preparing to leave the room behind once and for all, something caught her eye.

Next to her bed, even as a vampire Serana had insisted sleeping in a bed, something on her old nightstand glistened, even in the dim light of the castle. She recognized it instantly, picking the glimmering necklace off her night stand, its gold frame laden with precious jewels, a gift to her from none other than Sedric...

* * *

_Serana stretched her back, letting out a groan. The beds at the College were decidedly less comfortable than the one she was used to at the castle. The requirement that she be awake and ready for class at the crack of dawn was also quite bothersome, but it was definitely worth it. She had only been a student at the College of Winterhold for a few months, but had already learned more about magic in that short time than the entire previous two decades of her life. For the first time in years, Serana had felt a sense of belonging, one she had almost never experienced living with her family._

_Ever since the night of the banquet, Harkon had only become more distant and cold. Valerica still remained supportive of Serana's ambitions, but saw her more as a protege than a daughter. Day after day, she had been stuck in between her parent's constant wars with each other, so it had been nothing short of a blessing when she had not only completed the Trials of Jhunal, but had been accepted as an apprentice into the College of Winterhold. After all, she had just seen her twenty-second naming day. Surely it was time to strike out on her own?_

_"Nirn to Serana!"_

_She quickly looked over at Drelas, her bunkmate. He was a Dunmer, at least a few decades older than her, but still practically an infant by his race's standards. The Elf ran his hands through the scruff on his chin, leaning back against his desk as he waited for Serana to respond._

_"What?" She asked._

_"I said, do you still have my notes from Professor Auryen's last lecture?" He repeated. "I'm hearing rumors the old coot is going to surprise us all with a quiz tomorrow."_

_"Oh, right," Serana remembered, reaching into her newly acquired magic satchel. This thing was truly a life saver. Why she had never even heard of these before joining the College was beyond belief. "Here you are, thank you again for letting me borrow them."_

_"My pleasure," Drelas said with a grin. "It was the least I could do for you helping me with that..." he paused. "Problem."  
_

_"Don't mention it," Serana laughed. "Rumors can be nasty. I know that better than anyone."_

_"Speaking of rumors," the Elf said, before taking a peek out the doorway to make sure the both of them weren't being listened in on. "I heard something rather interesting about your family recently." Serana stood up from her bed, looking as though she was ready to shut him down for even mentioning whatever it was he had on his mind. "Whoa, easy," he put his hands up in defense. "I haven't said anything. I just wanted to ask you about it."_

_"So talk, said the Nord. Whatever this Elf had to say had better have been good._

_"There's a nasty rumor going around that..." Drelas paused. "Well, that your parents have started dabbling in Daedra worship."_

_Serana's heart skipped a beat. This hadn't been the first time in recent weeks that someone had asked her about this particular subject. Despite her family's damnedest efforts to keep quiet, somehow there were whispers in courts throughout the province that the great and noble Volkihar family had forsaken the Eight Divines, turning their favor to the Daedric lords, beings shunned and disdained by _civilized _society. It was bad enough that her mother and father had begun worshiping not just any Daedric Prince, but the Lord of Domination Molag Bal himself. Yet Serana shuddered to think what would happen if people found out that she herself was a follower. Which was exactly why she needed to shut Drelas up _now.

_"I don't know where you heard this," Serana said, "But it would be in your best interest to forget about it."_

_The Elf threw up his hands. "Easy," he said. "I'm not judging you if that's the case. I'm a Dunmer, after all."_

_"Well, it's not true," she spat. "So I don't want to hear about it from you or anyone else."_

_Drelas had a look about him, as though he were going to ask exactly what had crawled up Serana's ass and died. The Mer never got the chance, as a knock at the door immediately claimed both their attention. An older woman entered the room, a Breton, who Serana recognized as Ambrielle Ervine, one of the College's most esteemed professors. Serana rarely saw Ervine around the campus, only ever when the old woman had business with the apprentices. In her case, it was almost always for the exact same reason._

_"Miss Volkihar," Ervine said with a hint of annoyance. "You have a... visitor."_

_Almost immediately, Serana's face lit up with a smile. This only meant one of two things. Either Valerica had journeyed away from the castle to be rid of Harkon for a few days, or this was another kind of visit altogether. The latter was confirmed when, from behind Ervine, a tall, hooded man entered the room, the only part of his face visible was his unmistakable smirk. "Drelas," Serana said, not taking her eyes off the hooded man. "Take off for a bit, would you?"_

_"Oh, for the love of-" the Elf began to complain. "Every few weeks this joker comes by! Who is he?"_

_"Doesn't matter," the mysterious man said, tossing the Dunmer a pouch of coins. "Leave us, please." This gesture seemed to do the trick quite nicely, moments later Serana and the man were left quite alone, the door locked behind them. "Lady Serana," the man said as he removed his hood. "How fare your studies here at the College?"_

_"Knock it off, Sedric," Serana said playfully. "No need to act all flowery when there's no audience."_

_"Oh, come on," said the prince. "You know I can't resist getting under your skin. How have you been?"_

_"You know how it is," she sighed. "I enjoy it here. I'm learning more than I ever thought possible about magic, but..."_

_"But?"_

_"I feel bad about leaving," Serana explained. "Leaving my mother to deal with... him."_

_"Is your father really that bad?" Sedric asked. "I understand he's not the most... empathetic of men, but-"_

_"He never was," she said. "But after that night, the banquet, well... he never really got over it." She shook her head, now looking down at the floor. "He just became... very icy. He never had any patience for myself or my mother, acted like we were always in his way. Even before it all happened, he wasn't easy to be around, but now..."_

_"Sorry," the prince said. "I shouldn't have brought it up."_

_"It's alright," Serana replied, before suddenly drawing a smirk. She stood up from the bed and slowly walked up to Sedric, swaying her hips as she went. "But come on," she said as she reached him. "We both know you didn't come here to talk about our families."_

_Sedric only grinned mischievously in response, and Serana began to back away, still loosely holding on to one of the prince's wrists as she led him to her bed. "Actually, wait just a moment," he said just before the reached it._

_Serana did as she was asked, suddenly very worried. "Is something wrong?"_

_"No, nothing," the prince said, a hint of red beginning to adorn his cheeks. "At least, I hope not. There was... something I wanted to talk to you about."_

_She groaned, the mood in the room suddenly becoming quite sour. "Sedric," she said lowly. "If this is about those ridiculous rumors,"_

_"No, nothing like that," he assured her. "You know I don't pay attention to court gossip." Sedric reached down into the satchel at his side, pulling out an ornate, beautifully crafted necklace, the likes of which Serana had never seen before. "I got you something."_

_She didn't know what to say. Her breath practically taken away, she gingerly took the necklace into her hands. Upon closer inspection, Serana took notice of one small detail that almost immediately gave her pause. "Sedric," she said nervously. "This is a betrothal necklace."_

_"I've been thinking," said the prince, nervously putting a hand at the back of his neck. "Father's sick. Very sick. And when he dies, it's almost a sure thing that the Moot will name me his successor."_

_"I thought you didn't want that," Serana said._

_"I still don't," he shrugged. "Though I simply might not have a choice in the matter. But that's besides the point." He gently took Serana's hands into his own, taking in a deep breath. "I want to go public."_

_Serana's eyes grew wide. "Are you sure that's a good idea? When our fathers find out..."_

_"Damn our fathers," the prince said. "We've had to hide from them for years, all because of their desperate power game. I'm sick of it."_

_"But are you sure?" she asked once again. "I could be your court wizard..."_

_"And if that's what you want, I won't fight you," Sedric said. "But when the time comes, I also want you to be my queen. I love you, and I don't give a damn who knows it." There was a long silence that followed, and the prince took it upon himself to slowly drape the necklace around Serana's neck. "I don't need an answer right this second. But... wouldn't you at least think about it?"_

_A single tear began to fall from Serana's eye. "I don't need to," she said, before rushing forward to meet Sedric in a loving, passionate kiss._


End file.
